Using polycrisis as a descriptor of our current situation may be an understatement. At the same time, it is an unhelpful frame, in my view, as it confuses and paralyses. What we need is to engage in honest ways that energize: being real while producing desire, a sense of agency, and heightened curiosity.
The term “polycrisis” has gained popularity when describing the multitude of simultaneous crises facing the world, from climate change to geopolitical instability, polarization, social upheaval, erosion of social trust, economic inequality, and beyond. The term simply acknowledges that multiple crises are unfolding in parallel, that they are interconnected, amplifying one another. While recognizing this complexity is valuable, I doubt that “polycrisis” is truly helpful for generating effective responses.
How “polycrisis” limits
The polycrisis concept states the obvious. Yes, there are several crises happening simultaneously. Yet, there always have been. History is full of moments where different crises have intersected, such as wars, pandemics, economic collapses, and social unrest. Today’s experience may simply be another chapter in this ongoing saga. The crises are real, but the fact that they are happening at the same time isn’t particularly novel.
Maybe the current “polycrisis” is unprecedented in geographic scale, its creeping, decades long expansion, its global existential threat, or the novelty of technologies from AI to persistent pollutants and nuclear bombs. Yet, there has also been stickiness: for the last half century, there has not been much shift, for instance, in how humanity powers itself, in the resource dependence of its ever-expanding infrastructure and cities, or in the global income distribution.
But also, not everyone shares the view that we are stuck in such crises. For instance, the current US president-elect still advocate for fossil fuel expansion, explicitly using slogans like “drill, baby, drill,” even as hurricanes and wildfires—exacerbated by climate change—wreak havoc. There is no common understanding.
Perhaps most unhelpful about the polycrisis lens is that it globalizes problems, rather than painting them as context. Polycrisis thereby conjures the belief that only central control can counteract it. This undermines any sense of personal, community, or even country agency. When we’re told that everything is interlinked in an overwhelming web of complex global crises, it’s easy to feel powerless and paralyzed. It breeds fatalism and defeatism.
Would a polycrisis lens have benefited us in the past?
Historical examples like World War II may help us understand the limitations of the polycrisis lens. This was by any definition a polycrisis, with deep social tensions and resentments, within and among colonial empires. The tensions not only led to brutal battles and genocides, but also went hand in hand with widespread famine, poor healthcare, educational decline, persistent racism and discrimination, economic chaos. These crises were interconnected and mutually reinforcing.
Yet, even with this complexity, most people didn’t understand the war through a lens of “polycrisis.” Such a lens may not have been particularly helpful either. The primary focus emphasized the war effort, and people acted within that context. This suggests that while recognizing interconnected crises is useful, emphasizing core issues (like the war in the 1930s and 1940s or planetary overuse today) may provide a clearer sense of pathways, priority, and purpose. The polycrisis lens risks diffusing focus, complexifies opportunities to engage, and is making it harder to mobilize collective action.
Learning from the airline industry: A more constructive lens
What alternative lenses could be more productive? One area we might learn from is the airline industry. Aviation is complex and potentially dangerous, but the industry has established a culture of meticulous study and analysis of breakdowns. And what makes it unique and transformative: they study errors (mostly) without assigning blame. When a plane crash or near-catastrophe occurs, the industry’s primary focus is on understanding what exactly happened, what factors contributed, and thereby learning how to prevent it from happening again. Of course, sadness and rooting out the source of the breakdown are involved, but the main focus is the objective of understanding so that future catastrophes will be prevented. This emphasis on problem-solving, rather than on despair or blame, could serve as a useful model for addressing current crises.
In this context, we could imagine a shift in the way we discuss our global challenges. Rather than focusing on the enormity of the problems we face, we could acknowledge the major forces at play and spend more time on discussing potential responses. “What’s your response? What’s mine? Where can we synergize?” These are the types of questions that invite participation and foster a sense of agency. When people feel like they have a say, and that their action contributes also to their own resilience, they are far more likely to engage actively and positively.
From crisis to thrill: Finding joy together in our response
An even more radical departure from the polycrisis mindset would be to reframe the way we think about crisis altogether. Instead of feeling crushed by the weight of multiple, interlinked disasters, what if we just acknowledged the predictable future and found exhilaration or at least entertainment in experimenting with new possibilities and intriguing responses to ready ourselves? What if, instead of viewing crises as something overwhelming to fear, we acknowledge what is and use this context as opportunities for innovation, collaboration, and even adventure?
There is a long history of human beings finding meaning and fulfillment in responding to challenges. In the face of the predictable future of more climate change and resource constraints, for example, there is tremendous potential for communities to come together, for new friendships and alliances to form, and for people to experience the satisfaction of working toward meaningful responses. There is even potential for excitement, for a sense of thrill, in trying something new—whether that’s building resilient infrastructure, rethinking energy systems, or creating new forms of social organization.
In short, the “polycrisis frame” may do more harm than good by overemphasizing complexity and reducing a sense of personal agency. We need alternative lenses that encourage exploration, jumping in, experimenting with responses, and through that find the joy of collaboration. Yes, it is helpful and necessary to be able to describe our context adequately. That’s the starting point, not the point of the inquiry. Recognizing context gives support to my personal question: “what is my response?”. This then automatically opens the door to “What’s possible when we work together?” In doing so, we can move beyond a sense of helplessness and embrace the opportunities along the way. In that journey, we might even find joy.
Acknowledgement
This piece emerges out of conversations with Heiko Specking, Lewis Akenji, and Roger Duck. But the responsibility for potential errors, omissions, or misguidance is ultimately entirely mine. As always, your responses and comments are most welcome.
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