On The Urgent Need to Slow Down

There are two weeks to go until this year’s Futureperfect festival kicks off – and every day now, I’m hearing from new people who are coming, people I’m excited to know are going to be there.

I’ve come to see gatherings like this as a necessary luxury.

A luxury because they allow us to take a couple of steps back from the day-to-day realities of our work, whatever that may be.

And a necessity because, without stepping back like this from time to time, we will drift off course, lose sight of that element within our work that is hardest to put into words, the element that was why it mattered in the first place.

In these spaces, we get to stretch out our minds and our souls a little – to have the conversations we never quite find time for among the rhythms of everyday life, or at more goal-oriented events and conferences. We step into festive time, a time of leisure in the deeper, older senses of the word: the kind of leisure that was long understood to be the precondition for learning. The leisure that allows us to attend to what matters.

I believe that such spaces matter all the more, given the tangle of crises around and ahead of us. I’ll say what I mean by this in a moment – but as I work my way around to doing so, you might like to put on a little music from one of the artists who’ll be creating the kind of leisurely atmosphere I’m looking forward to at Futureperfect…

Over the last few weeks, with some of my new collaborators here in Sweden, we’ve been starting to put words to the kind of work we want to do together in the name of The Västerås Group: the organisation that has been growing of the conversation series I hosted here in Västerås earlier in the summer. (Recordings of the first five conversations are available to download here, the rest are coming soon.)

There’s a question we’ve found ourselves circling around, which goes something like this: What do we do when our maps no longer fit the territory?

We seem to be living in a time of disorientation. A time of people who feel lost and confused, who followed the route they were given, but didn’t get to the lives they were expecting. Institutions whose levers no longer seem to work. At the root of this are a set of entangled crises: among them, the unravelling of the promise of economic progress, of the structures and culture of democracy, of the ecological fabric on which all of this rests.

These crises are still only starting to poke through the collective map by which our societies steer, the collection of models and stories that make up what I often think of as ‘official reality’. Politicians and the media struggle to incorporate them into their ways of talking about the world. But the lurching sense of disorientation is a product of the gap between that rapidly-dating map and the realities of everyday life.

And so, as we’ve been talking about what The Västerås Group might actually do together, we’ve started to sketch out what it might mean to build a practice around the redrawing of our maps. Taking account of the unmarked obstacles, resisting the illusion of a return to the way things once worked, learning to spot the unexpected paths where we had been told there was only a dead end.

Just now, for me, all of this comes around to Futureperfect. For the obvious reason that this is the first project we’ve undertaken as The Västerås Group: to host the festival’s Cocreation Space, a huge tent at the centre of the festival site, full of cushions and comfy sofas and conversations, where our Festival Faculty will be inviting people back from the more formal sessions going on over the four days, picking up the loose ends and unanswered questions, trying to draw each other beyond our preformed ideas, into the process of thinking together.

And for the larger reason that the space of necessary luxury and leisurely conversation seems to be a precondition for the kinds of work that we’ve started to identify as belonging to the process of redrawing. Gatherings like this are one form of such a space, there are others. They respond to a need that grows stronger in times of disorientation: the urgent need to slow down.

So here is my work-in-progress, back-of-an-envelope map of some kinds of work that make sense, when our maps no longer fit the territory. (I suspect it will be a while before we distill all this into a simple explanation of what it is we’re doing, but I hope the conversations on Grinda in two weeks’ time will help that process on its way.)

  1. Acknowledge the scale and significance of the gap that has opened up: the discomfort of losing our bearings, the attachment we have to how we thought the world worked and how we thought our lives would work out. Make room for this loss, and for the doubts and fears and darknesses that come with it. Wait for your eyes to adjust, without rushing to answers or to action. Allow it to pass from the level of information and facts, into the kind of knowledge we feel in our bodies, the kind that leaves us changed. (If I had to sum up why Dark Mountain has mattered to people, I would say it was because without fully realising what we were doing, we made room for this kind of process – a theme Paul and I talked about in the Five Years on a Mountain video.)
  2. Give attention to the maps, models and stories we grew up taking for reality. Take a step back and allow them to come into focus. Notice them, name them together, so that we can recognise the moments when they slip back in to our thinking, uninvited. This is the kind of attention I associate with what Cat Lupton calls ‘the place between stories’ (which always reminds me of ‘the Wood between the Worlds’ in The Magicians Nephew). It’s a process I talk about in this short video with Ākāśa Innovation.
  3. Give attention to the elements within people’s everyday experience that are left out of the maps and models we inherited. If loosening the hold of our existing maps means stepping back to the in-between place where we can reflect on the maps themselves, the counterweight to this – the guard against getting lost in our reflections – is to step closer to the unmapped texture of experience. Look for the places where things no longer work the way they used to, and also for the huge areas where people’s experience was never reflected in the map. There is pain here, exclusion and damage, but this is never the whole story: there are clues also, pockets of life that may have endured precisely because they went unmapped, possibilities that we had missed. I think of those lines of Eugenio Montale:
  4. History isn’t
    the devastating bulldozer they say it is.
    It leaves underpasses, crypts, holes
    and hiding places…

  5. Find different ways of having conversations. The situation is too messy and too serious to spend our time acting out the kinds of point-scoring debate that have too often passed for grown-up public discourse. With nice timing, a deck of Group Works cards arrived in the post this week from Dave Pollard, offering ‘a pattern language for bringing life to meetings and gatherings’, while Mark left a comment pointing me towards the example of Council Practice. Willow Brugh, one of the other members of the Festival Faculty, is working on a ‘recipe box’ of different flavours of conversation for the Cocreation Space. How do we move beyond these as ‘alternative’ techniques? How could we help parts of the mainstream media out of the dead-end of pointless backward-and-forward arguments that pass for intelligent discussion? That might sound naïve, but it’s what Per Johansson, one of our Festival Faculty, has been doing with his series for Swedish Radio’s P1, Människan och Maskinen (Man and the Machine) – and the response they’ve experienced suggests there is a hunger for this kind of media. Much closer to the hard end of broadcast news, I see something related in the way in which Paul Mason bridges between the networked conversations of social media, intellectual analysis and reporting for a mainstream TV channel.
  6. Recognise the role of culture and the imagination. Not to be pressed into service as a means to an end, a delivery mechanism for a message we want to communicate – but a place where the wilder sides of ourselves come to life, where the familiar can be thrown into question and new shapes can arrive from no-one knows quite where. Here, again, we meet a necessary luxury. I’m getting particularly interested in the role of theatre in this – not least, for some of the reasons that Paul Mason touched on in his review of the National Theatre’s Great Britain – so I’m excited to be bringing to Futureperfect the founders of the young Swedish theatre company Troja Scenkonst, currently working on a project called The History of Swedish Democracy, along with the remarkable Bembo Davies of the Institute for Non-Toxic Propaganda and the Society for the Promotion of Human Rites.
  7. Aim to create projects and experiments that continue to make sense in the widest range of possible futures. There is a criterion here, to be worked out further, which might start to help us shape practical work. Perhaps the unMonastery, which both Bembo Davies and Ben Vickers (Curator of Digital at the Serpentine Gallery and another of our Festival Faculty) have been involved with, is an example of this kind of experiment? I’m looking forward to hearing more about how its first phase in Matera has gone.
  8. Create pockets within our organisations and institutions that have permission to experiment with other maps. To operate according to other assumptions and other scenarios. And to exercise judgement as well as measurement, to take seriously things that don’t show up in the criteria other parts of the organisation are accountable to. (Christopher Brewster and I discussed ‘The Limits to Measurement’ as part of the Västerås Conversations – and he’ll also be joining us at the festival.) Again, this is something that needs working out, but it feels like there could be a rationale for a small part of an organisation’s resources to be used in this way, as a hedge against “map failure”. This is a conversation I’ve had a few times over the years with Ella Saitta, one of the hacker-thinkers who’ll be joining us at Futureperfect.

I don’t know if these kind of reflections are what the Futureperfect guys expected, when they appointed me as their Festival Professor.

As a model, it is a work in progress, a sketch of some of what’s been bubbling up in our conversations – and I owe a particular debt to Lucas Grind, who has spent the most time grinding through these ideas together with me. (He’ll be at the core of our Cocreation Space crew – as well as DJing on the Saturday night…)

But hopefully it’s also a taste of what to expect, if you’re thinking about joining us in two weeks’ time. Meanwhile, I’m going to take my own advice and slow down for awhile. I look forward to seeing some of you on Grinda!

Futureperfect is happening from 14-17 August on the island of Grinda in the Stockholm archipelago. Tickets are available from the festival website.

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