I am sitting here in the semi darkness tapping these words into a laptop trying not to wake a house of children and family, a house in waiting. There is something tangible and at yet at the same time tender about the expectation of a Christmas morning. All those days of counting down and growing clamour, all those conversations about possibility caught up and held in the advent time between night and morning. Yet waiting does not come easy – we are so often impatient for the lights to go on and the wonder to start, the glasses to be filled and the food to be served. But waiting does not just enhance the experience it changes it. Taking a moment to recollect, to remember and renew for me at least is an essential pre-requisite for this unique day amongst days.

I sit and wait.

I sit and wait and remember all those years down to the days of my own childhood when in different places with different people I have waited for the dawn to sparkle into cold welcome for this day of birth and celebration. I have always loved Christmas perhaps because in my own childhood it was not always a time of ease or enjoyment as I witnessed my mother struggling to make this a day made different by its fullness and fun rather than one marked by the mundanity of ordinariness and emptiness. So, I know that for many this day will be one of feeling that they have not managed to give to those they love what their heart would have wanted and so along with the smiles and happiness there will be mingled disappointment and upset.

I sit and wait.

I sit and wait and like so many around the country will think of those who are not here this year to sit around a table of tale-telling, to share laughter and fullness. There is something painfully hard about being in the midst of celebration when your heart is fractured and grieving. And in the darkness as I wait I cannot forget all the folks in this last year who I have spoken to and who have been cut off from the love that made them who they were, not just those who have lost loved ones to Covid but all who mourn in these times of detached consolation and distanced comfort. For so many, today is a day of empty remembrance, of a voice not heard, a smile not seen, a touch not felt.

I sit and wait.

I sit and wait and recollect the week that has just passed. The conversations I have had with carers, managers and providers in care home and homecare which have been so emotional and upsetting. People are exhausted into emptiness – they have so little left to give because they have been on the frontline for so long in this Covid battle. The thought of getting up again, walking into a non-man’s land of uncertainty and infectivity, of meeting the onslaught of yet another wave, of not knowing what to expect but fearing the absence of so many colleagues, of yet more tiredness and fatigue, of yet more assault and loss, for so many all this seems just far too much. And I think of the tears shed this last week and the fear that I saw in eyes frozen and empty as they wait for the next few weeks to unfold.

I sit and wait

I sit and wait along with everyone I know who desperately wants the best gift of all, the gift of normality, the predictability of the past, the familiar and the safe to become our life companions once again.  There are so many just weary with headline and comment, with statistics and models, tired of scientists and strategists. We want the spark of optimism and possibility to replace the deadening weight of restriction and retreat.

I sit and wait

I sit and wait but know that authentic waiting can never be passive if it is to bring the dawn rather than deepen the darkness. And so I sit and wait and believe that there is a strength which comes from knowing that as the sun rises on this Christmas morning that it will do so again tomorrow and that the hurt of the moment will give way ultimately to the healing of hope.

I sit and wait

I sit and wait and know that what has brought me and so many to this day and what makes this day special is not the meaning of merchandise but the truth of loving, the comfort of community and the energy of togetherness.

I sit and wait

I sit and wait and hope – but not a hope in fantasy and fairy tale, in faux surprise and mock enjoyment, but a hope grounded in the assurance that what makes the difference every moment of every day is the giving of ourselves to others, the creating of community, the being in solidarity one with the other. I know that in the weeks and days ahead even to their own cost there will be women and men who will find an energy deep in their marrow to continue to give and spend on others the compassion which courses through their veins; that they will be there to hold a hand frozen by the fear of tomorrow because they have lost the touch of today’s memory; that they will be a presence of peace to those who walk into the final path of living with steps faltering and anxious; that they will not be silent in the midst of the noise of fear and anxiety, but will whisper against it by their love and care a word of assurance and hope.

I sit and wait.

I sit and wait and hope – with optimism that the emerging news about Omicron and its severity will indeed work out to be a positivity which will pull us onwards to a spring which witnesses growth and renewal, new beginning and restoration. But at the same time rooting that hope in a reality which appreciates the tremendous pressure care and health systems and workers are currently under and knowing that it is only by collective action and support for necessary cautious protective measures that hope will come to flourishment.

I sit and wait

I sit and wait but know too the truth that waiting must lead to action. Even as we sit still, we are continually in our mind and body preparing for the movement, the next breath, the new beginning. Hope does not just happen it has to be worked for and it must be welcomed in. So, I open the door to hope, so it can sit at my table in Christmas celebration, and fill those present with a belief that this indeed is a day unlike all others. The sounds and smells, the conversations and commitments, all point and call to the day after fear which is the dawning of hope. For me that is the real soul of Christmas that our world can be changed, can be renewed and can become one of possibility through the fragility of vulnerability.

The house is beginning to stir. There is now a different waiting, a waiting for hope and its smell and taste fills the air.

Merry Christmas to you all.

I leave you with the words of the poem ‘Smell’:

the smell of a baby

just newly born,

pure and innocent,

without love forlorn

 

the smell of a promise,

lived to the full,

flowing and vibrant,

the truth of the soul

 

the smell of a day,

crisp to the touch,

of a cold winter’s frost

blanketing life’s hurt

 

the smell of a moment,

when love takes your hand

and breathes a kiss

into the heart of your palm

 

the smell of a flower

opening to the day,

yearning for fullness

with clear open air

 

the smell of the forest,

trees folding in a wood,

groaning in innocence

of naked ancient truth

 

the smell of tomorrow

beyond broken hurt

expectant with vision

of a world restoring hope.

 

Donald Macaskill

 

The BBC programme ‘Who Do You Think You Are?’ is one of my all-time personal favourites. For those of you who do not know it – it is a TV series now into its 18^th season which in each episode shows a celebrity tracing their family tree. Who would have thought genealogy would have become such a hit? Indeed, away back in the first series the last ten minutes of each episode featured a genealogical researcher giving tips on tracing a family tree. I’ve always been fascinated by my family history not least as my late great aunt traced our family back for generations when she was in her nineties well before the era of internet search. The fascination is not because I think there are great swashbuckling heroes, princes or bishops to discover – very much a Scottish crofting family for generations – but because a sense of who you are and where you have come from has, for me at least, been a critical part of self-identity.

My interest in genealogy has also increased in me the awareness that countless generations of my family have been people who – largely because of poverty – have had to uproot themselves from the familiar, have had to leave the known and with real courage and self-sacrifice have had to move and start a new life in a new place amongst strangers. I am unashamedly the child of generations of migrants. And if you look at the demography of Scotland so are most of us – it’s just that in our increasingly static and settled lives we have lost the memory chord to our migrant past.

Why is this important? Well in one sense I am reflecting on migration because today is United Nations Migrants Day. It is a day whose theme this year is about ‘harnessing the potential of human mobility’ which highlights for us all the astonishing number of people who are migrants across the world, but more important than the numbers is the amazing contribution that migrants make to the societies in which they settle. It is hard to fathom that in 2020 – a year of real chaos and turmoil – that around 281 million people were designated as international migrants – nearly 3.6 per cent of the global population.

In the last year I have spoken at many virtual events and in meetings about the contribution and added value which folks who have come to Scotland to work in social care have brought to our sector and most importantly to our communities. They have brought knowledge and skills, insights and creativity, innovation and compassion. They have enriched our care and brought quality to our organisations.

But being a migrant has never been and is not easy. It requires a strength of character and resolve which few of us can show; it necessitates a flexibility and openness, a willingness to be changed and challenged.

Alongside these meetings I have taken part in numerous discussions with politicians and ministers, activists and campaigners around the effect that the new United Kingdom Government immigration restrictions have been having on social care over the last year. I wrote in a previous blog around this a couple of months ago. Sadly, with the arrival of Omicron the glaring gaps in our workforce capability and resilience are being shown for what they are. The post-Brexit immigration policy has a lot to answer for but part of that is the critical shortage of staff in social care which has seriously weakened the sector’s ability to meet the challenges of Omicron. It is not an exaggeration to say that the policies of the United Kingdom Government especially initiated during a global pandemic have seriously endangered lives and made us less likely to keep people safe.

In the light of all that reality it was therefore really positive to read this week of the recommendations of the UK Government’s own specialist Advisory team, the Migration Advisory Committee. In an extensive report published on Wednesday they are recommending to the Home Office that there are urgent changes made to the new immigration system to meet the needs of the social care sector. The Committee stated:

“Given the severe and increasing difficulties faced by the care sector, the report brings forward preliminary findings on adult social care. The MAC recommends the government make care workers immediately eligible for the health and care worker visa and place the occupation on the shortage occupation list.”

This is what we have been calling for throughout the last year. The experts have heard the pleas to support a care sector not least in Scotland which needs to continually attract new people into the care sector. And lest anyone retort this will pull wages down – there is absolutely no evidence of this in recent times in Scotland where frontline care salaries continue to rise.

Now we can only wait to see if political leaders at Westminster will accept data and fact before rhetoric and mantra. I earnestly hope the Home Secretary will accept the expert advice of her own Committee, if she fails to then 2022 will continue to see the decline of our communities and a reduction in our ability to deliver basic social care to meet citizen needs. The actions of the UK Government have already endangered the care sector they now have the ability and evidence to make change or continue to cause harm.

So as the nights start to draw in towards December 21^st I hope as we turn into lengthening days of light in the next few weeks that we will see a light of realisation dawning in the Home Office. I hope we can begin to see and hear in that place less of the toxic intolerance of the migrant and more of the true character of Scotland and its people, of openness and welcome, valuing and affirmation. Migrants are a gift to our communities, and I say that as the son of the son of the son of the son of the son… of a migrant, and as each hand touches the next in an embrace of hands back into the mists of time … that is a family tree which really does tell me ‘Who I think I am’.

And on a day thinking of all who are migrants I’ll close with the beautiful poetry of Lory Bedikian. It is timeless in its rhythm of migrant truth and landless in the horizon of its insight.

Prayer for My Immigrant Relatives

While they wait in long lines, legs shifting,
fingers growing tired of holding handrails,
pages of paperwork, give them patience.
Help them to recall the cobalt Mediterranean
or the green valleys full of vineyards and sheep.
When peoples’ words resemble the buzz
of beehives, help them to hear the music
of home, sung from balconies overflowing
with woven rugs and bundled vegetables.
At night, when the worry beads are held
in one palm and a cigarette lit in the other,
give them the memory of their first step
onto solid land, after much ocean, air and clouds,
remind them of the phone call back home saying,
We arrived. Yes, thank God we made it, we are here.

Copyright © 2011 Lory Bedikian. This poem originally appeared in The Book of Lamenting (Anhinga Press, 2011) and is taken from https://poets.org/poem/prayer-my-immigrant-relatives .

Donald Macaskill

 

I have been spending a lot of time chatting to people in the last week, both virtually and in person. As I have travelled and met folks, held discussions and meetings, I have been aware of the conflicting emotions which have been evident in what – even in these times – has felt like an exceptional week.

It is a week which has witnessed a growing anger at what may or may not have happened in Christmas parties at 10 Downing Street. I am not going to comment on the politics of all this but having spoken to so many around the issue of bereavement and grief in the past week I do find it appalling that at a time when so many were unable to be with their loved ones, to say goodbye to a mum, dad or husband or wife in the latter stages of their life, when so many of us were experiencing Christmas at a distance from love and belonging, that some people thought it appropriate to party and ‘allegedly’ break the rules.

Alongside this we have witnessed England moving into Plan B in its Covid response but even this serious action which evidenced growing concern about the Omicron strain has been diminished by politicians complaining about loss of ‘freedom’ and the suggestion that we should learn to ‘live with the virus’ which is deemed as equivalent to doing nothing so as to protect various sectors of the economy – all against a backdrop of an increasingly partisan response which has shouted down the clinical and epidemiological arguments.

As I have travelled I have heard comment which suggests that society is over-reacting to Omicron and what is claimed to be a ‘mild-infection’; I have witnessed far too many people choosing deliberately to not wear a mask on public transport or to wear it in a manner which is purposeless.

Then towards the end of the week in Scotland yesterday we had a series of stark warnings from our First Minister and letters sent to the care sector requiring staff to increase their testing in order to protect both those resident in care homes and in the community. It feels for many like an anxious and worrying time. Regardless of the fear and exhaustion which is wholly justifiable it is important to underline that we all of us need to ensure that the access for family and friends to residents in care homes over the next weeks is as normal as possible whilst at the same time keeping people safe from such an infectious variant of the virus. It will be a balance that requires compassion and care, openness, and good communication.

There have been so many other things which have happened in the last week and some of it has evidenced the best of us and some of it certainly the worst of our humanity. I mean what is happening in our society when we have even reached the stage that yesterday (Friday) in response to an inept briefing from Downing Street which suggested that if you sing you do not need to wear a mask, that we have folks trying to enter some major supermarkets arguing that if they sing they are exempt from mask compliance? Stupid certainly and dangerous given the deadly seriousness of the times and indicative of what I would term a growing health narcissism and selfishness in response to Covid19.

Tomorrow is the UN Day which focusses on international and universal health coverage. To be honest it is a day which would normally pass me by but this year it has a somewhat chilling resonance as we face the threat of Omicron. Nearly a decade ago the United Nations General Assembly endorsed a resolution urging countries to accelerate progress toward universal health coverage (UHC) – the idea that everyone, everywhere should have access to quality, affordable health care – as an essential priority for international development. Tomorrow is about raising awareness of the need for strong and resilient health systems across the world.

The failure of the international community in the last year to meet the vaccination needs of developing countries is shameful. Despite much vaunted promises to donate 100 million vaccines to other countries the UK Government has donated only about a tenth of that total. The practical implications of failing to act in solidarity with the world is that new strains of the virus are enabled to develop and eventually come to threaten our own shores and communities. Omicron is the fruit of our failure to ensure that every person benefits from the human right to health and to make sure that no one’s health needs during a pandemic are unmet.

The Covid pandemic has drawn in the world around our table and hearth. We must develop a sense of awareness that pandemic planning is not just about looking after ourselves but recognising the global inter-connectiveness of our lives. Focussing on developing resilience locally and nationally should never be at the price of a withdrawal from international collaboration and cooperation. To do so is naïve and dangerous – we are all in this together. Looking after yourself alone, a health nationalism or narcissism is inherently dangerous and selfish.

When the ethnologist Richard Dawkins wrote ‘The Selfish Gene’ in 1976 he coined a phrase which would not only be influential in genetics but in wider society, not least when he introduced us to the idea of the ‘meme’. I am going nowhere near the technical and scientific debate around his arguments, but it is interesting the extent to which he sparked a debate and whole host of study about the nature of human selfishness. Are we hard wired for survival, to reproduce only those genes that aid our existence, and what is the nature of the ‘selfishness’ that can both preserve and damage living?

I have been reflecting about selfishness a lot this week not least as I have heard some horrendous personal accounts of what life has been like for so many during the pandemic. Are we a selfish society or do we care about others? Certainly, there was a sense at the start of the pandemic of collective solidarity and mutual support. As I sat on trains witnessing individuals who vocalised a refusal to wear a mask with the pride of narcissistic arrogance; as I watched arguments which suggested that the price of older people dying was worth paying for the ‘strong’ to get on with living; as I heard the syrupy justifications of political moral emptiness defend an unwillingness to take hard decisions – the concept of selfishness, of the cult of the self against all others, seemed to dominate my mind.

The next few weeks are clearly going to be immensely challenging. If we are to overcome them then collective compassion in a community which upholds one another strikes me as the only route out of the chaos of selfishness. Commentators are already warning that the public health message is being lost as people seek to restore themselves to the normality of pursuing personal priority. But surely that should encourage all of us, perhaps especially those of us who work in health and care, to point to a deeper truth of what human relatedness is and should be? That putting your ‘self’ second is not a genetic deficit but a humanitarian priority. And that perhaps all this involves us in adopting not a passive acceptance of the negative actions of others but a need to challenge them. In my journeyings in the past week I have witnessed what seem almost to be a desire to be defiant, to be protective of self and personal benefit, rather than an acknowledgement of any desire to protect others. Any society built on reciprocal co-responsibility needs to challenge and call out such behaviours rather than let them slide into acceptance.

I think too often we dance around the edge of politeness when what we need to do is call out inherent selfishness – a defensiveness of self which has become more and more dominant in society during these Covid times.

You probably know the poem of the Persian 14^th century mystic Hafiz which although short and simple I think captures what the essence of selflessness is – it is such a selflessness and not a health or personal narcissism , which we need today in great measure to fight a virus that has and is claiming too many, destroying so much, and making far too many consider their self alone as worthy of attention:

The Sun Never Says

Even
After
All this time
The sun never says to the earth

“You owe me.”

Look
What happens
With a love like that,
It lights
The whole sky.

 

Donald Macaskill

 

 

 

 

 

These last four days I’ve taken some time off and as illustrative of what I am told is an inability to sit still I have been doing some badly needed tidying and catch-up jobs. As part of this I came across my daughter’s Child Record. As well as an exercise in reminiscence which every parent indulges in from time to time it reminded me of all the focus that I and others put into those critical first months and years of life. From pre-birth classes to birth planning to the nth degree, from health visitor visits and the excellent Baby Box there is so much attention, resource and focus on making sure that our wee ones enter their life as they should. That brought to mind a remark someone made to me about if only we could put the same degree of attention, resource and focus on the way we end our living and on the way we support those who are experiencing loss and bereavement.

The week from the 2nd to the 8th December is the annual National Grief Awareness Week. This is run under the auspices of the Good Grief organisation which is itself a body representing 800 bereavement support organisations. It’s aims are clear and include normalising grief so that we challenge the taboo around dying and getting the public to talk so that it’s easier to support those who are living with grief as part of their life. The week also highlights the need to end the postcode lottery of bereavement support and to focus upon the necessity for tailored support when it is required.

I’ll be taking part in Grief Awareness week by chairing a session for the UK Commission on Bereavement. I’ve mentioned the work of the Commission before and I’d encourage anyone reading this to take part in their survey and to share your thoughts if you have been bereaved in the last few years. See https://bereavementcommission.org.uk

A couple of days after the end of Grief Awareness week is the annual United Nations Human Rights Day on the 10th December.

Human rights have I believe a lot to contribute to the nature of bereavement support in Scotland.

In most instances however if you Google the connection then you will come up with comment and articles covering the importance of those who are bereaved being treated equitably. This has been the focus of an important legal case last year on ensuring cohabitees have protected legal rights.

But I think human rights have a lot more to contribute to bereavement support. Indeed, it is such a belief that led myself and others to become involved in the creation and promotion of A Bereavement Charter for Children and Adults in Scotland. The Charter is human rights based and explores what it means to support someone through their grieving.

So why human rights and grief? Well, I would reflect back on my earlier comments – put simply because the way we support those who grieve is as important as the way we support a child and new life into our world. If being born enshrines our human rights, then dying and bereavement do also.

Human rights are there in law and practice because they describe to us the way we should relate to one another and what a society that enshrines dignity as intrinsic to human identity should look like.

In technical terms we have within the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights the ‘right to health’. I have argued elsewhere that this right needs to be broadly interpreted both to encapsulate a right to social care and a right to palliative care. The ground for that reasoning is that the right to health is not solely a right to psychological health but that it has a holistic dimension including the right to psychological, emotional and mental integrity.

It is a fundamental part of personal identity and living in community with others that we all of us experience the death of those who are important to us at some stage or other should we live any length of years. The inter-relationship of human existence means that we all grieve. Grief is wrapped up in the bonds of connection we make and is the fruit of the depth of our loving.

Grief is always an individual journey but the taking of the steps towards a re-orientation of your life in the absence of the departed can for some become challenging beyond their own capacity and beyond their strength to achieve alone and without support. For most of us if we get stuck on our walk of grief others who know us will manage to lift us up, support us and put us on the right direction. But not for all. That is when professional and sometimes specialist bereavement support becomes necessary.

We have, I would contend, to see such as a human right for bereavement support as a core element of the right to health and indeed within other rights such as Article 8 of the European Convention of Human Rights and its emphasis on psychological integrity and family life. There are many more human rights which are engaged in the realisation of a human right for bereavement support. We should also see the requirement to provide such bereavement support as a duty indeed obligation upon the State and its actors. Bereavement support as a human right should be an intrinsic part of our ability to realise all our other human rights because it is for some an essential enabler of their ability to maintain psychological and physical health, to remain connected to others, to articulate their needs and requirements and so much more.

Scotland is on the point of seeking to incorporate the International Covenant into domestic law and a lot of work has been undertaken in this regard. I hope our legislators use this as an opportunity to encapsulate and enshrine the priority we should all give as a modern, progressive society top supporting those who need support in their grieving and bereavement. The extent to which we enable people to live through grief, the degree to which we are prepared to accompany our fellow citizens who require support is a mark of the humaneness of our society. I hope this Human Rights Day Scotland can begin to become first nation to start that process. If nothing else, we should start a serious debate on the extent to which supporting adequate bereavement support is a human right and all that that may mean.

Grieving is the letting go which takes part of our heart in the freeing; we should not only prepare for the parting, plan for the journey, but be supported if we need direction for our walking from where we lose the warmth of touch and the familiar, and as we learn to live and to love in a different way. The amazing American poet Mary Oliver says it all.

 

Look, the trees

are turning

their own bodies

into pillars

 

of light,

are giving off the rich

fragrance of cinnamon

and fulfillment,

 

the long tapers

of cattails

are bursting and floating away over

the blue shoulders

 

of the ponds,

and every pond,

no matter what its

name is, is

 

nameless now.

Every year

everything

I have ever learned

 

in my lifetime

leads back to this: the fires

and the black river of loss

whose other side

 

is salvation,

whose meaning

none of us will ever know.

To live in this world

 

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

 

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it

go,

to let it go.

 

Mary Oliver

In Blackwater Woods

http://www.phys.unm.edu/~tw/fas/yits/archive/oliver_inblackwaterwoods.html

 

Donald Macaskill

 

 

 

Leadership has been much in the news this past week perhaps not surprisingly because it has been International Leadership Week up until yesterday. There’s also been a bit of a debate about the Peppa Pig approach to political leadership!

I’m always somewhat reticent in writing or talking about leadership in part because there is such an industry built around it that I don’t want to be responsible for adding to. I haven’t had much choice but to reflect on the issues this week as along with others I was taking part in a Project Lift workshop on Thursday and have also been interviewed this week by a research project exploring leadership in social care.

At the workshop I shared two reflections on what leadership means for me.

The first is one I’ve written about in this blog before and relates to my time many years ago as a student on a maternity ward. It was there that I sensed a model of leadership which was distinctive and insightful, natural and humane. Maieutic leadership is one where the leader enables the other person or team to identify what needs to be achieved and provides the support and resource to enable them to achieve their outcome or objective. A midwife does not do the work of birthing but is there to support, to guide, to encourage, to address and answer fears and concerns. She is the bridge of birth that a mother must walk across but at her own pace and in her own way.

I also reflected on another leadership insight. Years ago, I spent some time in Crete and experienced quite a few community and cultural celebrations. What struck me about the many processions I saw weave their way through the village with an almost weekly occurrence was the fact that the leaders of the parade walked not at the front nor back but in the middle – amongst and within those who made up the community.

They also significantly didn’t just look backwards and forwards but continually were looking outwards to ensure all were walking and included because the destination could not be reached unless all were arriving. They were there to watch out for those who might struggle to have their voice heard, to be noticed or have their contribution valued. Inclusion was everything to them because without all the community could not be whole.

The topic of leadership is of course not just of theoretical importance but is of huge practical importance especially as any system or organisation seeks to reform and change itself. I believe leadership by example has to be focussed around what it means to be authentic, relational, vulnerable and dynamic. These four characteristics enable personal psychological integrity and wellbeing and should, I believe, form the core characteristics of any and all who seek to lead others regardless of context or situation. Such an approach has, I would suggest, much to teach those of us who work in health and social care.

For me leadership has first and foremost to be relational. You cannot hope to be successful in managing people and in leadership unless you are able to relate to others. Leaders do not sit in a room (especially behind a closed door) detached from the reality of experience, the necessity of relating, and the invitation to encounter others. But relationships in leading and managing are not always easy, not least because in so many professions we have become obsessed with ‘boundaries’ and distance. Relationship formation especially with those who are different from us is challenging and the danger of not focussing on its importance and priority is that organisations can develop to look like their leader which is rarely creative or positive. As in all of life leadership relationships require effort and work – they do not just happen – they require all to be open to the other, to adjust and be prepared for the novel and change, contradiction and surprise, they require us to walk alongside one another, rather than to expect similitude and compliance. Relationship is frequently about risk and leadership is often about adventure.

A core enabler of positive work or organisational leadership is the ability of everyone to develop, nurture and foster the gifts of listening and strong affective communication skills. In my experience when things become challenging or when resistance intensifies there is often in the midst of that situation someone who feels unheard, undervalued and unrecognised. The best leaders are those who are open to hearing what they might not want or expect to hear and recognise the necessity of creating space for people not just to talk and share but to be heard.

A second characteristic which is important for me is that leadership has to be authentic. Again, I have written before about how important it is that people are able to recognise someone who walks the talk in their leaders. But authenticity, that sense of being ‘hand-made’, genuine, transparent, and real, is something which allows space for contradictory unpredictability. At its best authenticity is allowing you to be the person you really are and being authentic helps you discover the person you want to be. Being authentic is not about playing at a role, it is living life as much as possible without wearing the mask of pretence. It is really costly to be authentic in a world which demands predictability and constancy – for being human is rarely a linear walk – for me – it is as much about the hills and valleys as the calm and settled plains.

Part of being authentic is my third characteristic of leadership. Being able to embrace your vulnerability is so important. I do not mean that we need to go around carrying a box of Kleenex with a faux emotionalism. What I mean is that we have to discover the strength to be open to challenge and change, open to being able to relate at a deeply affective level where we are willing and enabled to share the questions we have, the doubts we possess and the dreams we are still nurturing. We live in a society which too often denotes strength and ability with some ideal image of wholeness, whereas in my experience being able to show your woundedness, your limitation of knowledge and the unfinishedness of your ideas, gives space for others to flourish and be more fully themselves in relation to you and the world around them. Vulnerability is not a personal weakness it is the deepest strength of authentic being in relationship with others especially as a leader.

And lastly there has to be a recognition of dynamic in our leadership – life continually changes, and relationships alter always – a good leader or manager is open to the dynamics of change, constantly re-orientating and learning but solid in the predictability of being open, honest, straight, and transparent; enabling of others, allowing others to achieve their potential rather than being self-interested or self-serving. We should not be afraid that the person we are today is different from who we were yesterday, a year ago, a decade ago. This is why for me the best leaders rarely see themselves as leaders because they are still striving to improve, to discover better gifts of authenticity, and to dig deeper into their humanity.

It is why dreaming, and vision-capturing are so critical for the leadership of any organisation or system. My old grandmother used to say that dreams are wasted on the night. The best dreamers change their day and I think the best leaders are dreamers. These dreams are not the stuff of cloud cuckoo land, but the dreams which are cabled and grounded in the earth of experience, in the reality of revolution, as we continually seek to turn our communities into places of compassion, dignity, humanity and equality. Every single person has the capacity to dream in their day so that it changes their tomorrow, and the most gifted leaders enable you to dream your dreams.

The American poet and novelist Langston Hughes was part of the so-called Harlem Renaissance, and in his work, he brought to the fore black life in America from the twenties through to the sixties. One of his best-known short poems says it all for me about what leaders need to do to relate, be authentic, show vulnerability and thrive through change, they need to hold fast to dreams:

Dreams:

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

 

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

 

Donald Macaskill

The COVID-19 pandemic has had many negative impacts and predictably it has affected some people and communities more than others. It has affected those who are older, those with disabilities, those from the BAME community and women in a disproportionate manner.  The effects of the virus have sadly and tragically not been felt equally by all. Evidence of that discriminatory impact was published by National Records Scotland in the last week when we read that those experiencing poverty or economic deprivation were two and a half times more likely to die from Covid compared to those living in areas of relative affluence.

But there have also been more hidden harms and impacts and one of those is the focus of my blog this week.

Next Thursday, the 25th of November, is the United Nations International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women. Numerous charitable bodies and support groups have reported how all types of violence against women and girls, particularly domestic violence, have increased during the COVID-19 pandemic. As communities went into lockdown sadly, we also served to lock in harm and abuse with a huge multiple rise in calls to helplines. The United Nations has described this as a Shadow Pandemic.

It’s three decades since I started being involved in adult and child protection and sadly the rise in the number of those who are victims of domestic home-based violence, predominantly women, seems horrifically consistent year upon year. The pandemic has served to make matters worse at a time when supports have been stretched and resource depleted. What is it about our society where the abuse and harm of women and girls is still so tolerated?

I spoke to a frontline colleague last week who expressed to me real concern about the often-hidden harm which older women daily experienced. She spoke about how once she supported a woman in her eighties who she daily found in tears, cowering in fear when her husband was in the room. She shared the journey they both went on to a point at which with huge courage she took control over her life again. Yet she also reflected as to whether that would have been possible in this new context, we all live in. For it is equally the case that along with the increase in violence against older women that the ability to access supports amongst that sector of our community is less than amongst other women not least because of issues of digital poverty and access when so many supports have moved online.

This year’s theme for the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women is “Orange the World: Fund, Respond, Prevent, Collect!”. As in previous years, this year’s International Day will mark the launch of 16 days of activism that will conclude on 10 December 2020, which is International Human Rights Day.

For those of us working in social care I believe that we need to re-double our efforts to address harm and abuse. We need to resource the training of and confidence building of frontline staff to be able to recognise the signs of harm and abuse, whether physical, emotional, or psychological. We need to continually make sure that a predominantly female workforce is not itself the victim of violence and harm. We need to be able to address the insidiousness of family and home-based violence amongst older people especially women who are often unable to access support and help because of frailty or age. It is a sad truth that most violence and harm happen at the hands of those we are closest to.

Over the next days many public buildings across Scotland will be ‘oranged’ as part of the United Nations campaign to recall the need for a violence-free future.

The dream of creating communities where all are respected regardless of gender; where a woman or a girl is able to walk without fear and belong without limitation is one we should all have. It is a dream which is at the heart of all compassionate care and support and one worth struggling for.

And a struggle it is. Any of us who have lived with the fear of daily hurt, the choking silence of expecting rage in every breath, the holding of breath lest anger be let loose, and rage shatter the calm, will recognise the power of the poetry of the Afghan poet Wadia Samadi. It is for all of us to be silent no more but to help all regardless of age to find freedom:

 

Finding Freedom

I wake up every morning scheming my escape

But what about my children?

Who will believe me?

Who will give me a home?

Years go by and I am still waiting

When will this end?

 

My makeup does not cover my bruised face

My smile does not hide my haggard visage

Yet, no one comes to help

They say: it will get better

They say: don’t talk about it

They say: this was my fate

They say: a woman must tolerate

Don’t air your dirty laundry, they say.

When will this end?

 

Once again, he drags my body to the floor

He chokes me and I beg him not to kill me

Once again, he demands my silence

Once again, he tells me I don’t deserve to live

 

I have had enough

I will not be silent

I will live

I will find freedom

This will end today.

 

Donald Macaskill

 

Today is World Kindness Day. When I read this the words of my late mother come flooding back. ‘If you cannot say a kind word then it’s best to say nothing at all. If you cannot do a kind thing then it’s better to do nothing.’

Kindness seems a strangely old-fashioned word in so much of the immediate digital discourse of the modern era not least on social media. Yet it is a reality which outlasts time with its ageless truth. It captures in its word the depths of compassion and care which must surely lie at the heart of all relationships of regard and love.

I was reminded of this as I watched the first instalment of a BBC documentary ‘Inside the Care Crisis’ where the former Chancellor Ed Balls goes to work in a care home. As the programme develops its ring of truth becomes apparent as Ed by sharing in ordinary tasks like personal care discovers the dignity at the heart of good care and support. It is a moving and beautiful programme not least the gentle scenes as he and his sister meet their mother who in the advanced stages of dementia lives in another care home and only has flickering moments of memory. I recommend you watch it because in it and the lives it explores both of resident and staff you will witness what kindness, compassion, and dare I say love really are. It shows the truth that care is hard and demanding especially if you allow the cared for to take the lead, to be the centre of the support you offer. It encapsulates loving kindness.

And we so need that kindness. We need the kindness that takes a hand veined with age and in a gentle stroke offers assurance to replace the terror dementia brings. We need the kindness that sits beside someone as in rasping breath life leaves a body tired of living. We need the kindness that is prepared to cope with the screams and scratches, the dirt and muck which comes with caring for someone at their most vulnerable and confused. We need a kindness that doesn’t pretend knowledge or expertise but sits alongside and simply is.

Kindness seems so alien to so much discourse and debate. Yet the pandemic in its early months and still I would argue today has shown us what a difference kindness can and is still making to our communities. And these acts are not giant gestures or great moments which get noticed or get onto TV – they are the small acts of humanity, the openness of neighbourliness and the solidarity of sympathy.

Sometimes faced with such large societal challenges such as the pandemic we can become paralysed by the thought that our action will not make a difference, our word will not be heard above the noise, our gesture will be rejected. But small acts really do change those around us.

On November 13^th each year, on World Kindness Day, people from around the world share with others the actions they have undertaken or witnessed which have made a difference. It is a day to share the random acts of kindness where total strangers help another. Started in 1998 it is a day with no religious or political ties but one which in a growing number of nations, in schools and colleges, hospitals and care homes, businesses and organisations, people are asked to show kindness and be kind. In the UK you can find out more about the day at www.kindnessuk.com

And of course, kindness is good for you! There is a growing volume of academic research and study which shows that being kind brings considerable psychological and emotional benefit including extending our life. But we do not act in kindness thinking of return we do so because it is instinctive to our humanity.

World Kindness Day was in part influenced by the movie which appeared in the following year. Pay it Forward illustrated the power one person can have by creating a chain reaction of positive deeds and actions. It underpins the argument that we create a caring society not by policy and pronouncement alone but by individual acts of kindness which collectively mould a new way of relating to others.

I was reminded of all this in the last couple of weeks when talking to some frontline staff in the care sector who are absolutely exhausted with all they have done to meet the challenges of the pandemic both in care homes and in home care services. They are a workforce which is running on empty because they have walked not just an extra mile but a marathon in their dedication and care. One of the folks I spoke to said when I asked her what would make the difference, that whilst all the mental health supports, all the increased focus on improving terms and conditions, are very necessary and welcome, what would make a real difference was to feel valued, to be appreciated and thanked. She reflected that in the last year people began to appreciate the work of care a lot more than previously but that that seems in the last few months to have disappeared as frustrations have grown at lack of service, changes to staffing and other pressures the social care system knows only too well. She recounted a time when after a really emotional shift a family member of a resident who had just died gave her a piece of paper which simply said, ‘Thank you.’ She spoke about how that absolutely ended her – it was not a card or gift but a bit of handwritten paper that said it all. It was an act of kindness that enabled her to come back the following day despite her sense of deflation and exhaustion.

Undeniably the next few weeks and months as we enter a winter of real challenge will test us all in ways, we may never even imagine possible. But I do not think it is trite at all to be reminded that in our encounters with others, perhaps especially with those with whom we might have disagreement or difference, that the word and act of kindness brings greater change than we can possibly imagine.

The current Poet Laureate Simon Armitage has very many brilliant poems but one of my favourites in its raw simplicity is Give – it describes the essence of a kindness which demands action and response, rather than passivity and acceptance. It is a poem spoken by a homeless person sleeping in a doorway and asking for some compassion from a stranger.

World Kindness Day will ring hollow and empty unless the individual acts of our compassionate kindness are taken beyond the moment into the rhythm of our living and relating to others. It is then through the activity of kindness that we create communities of compassion, care, and change.

Give

Of all the public places, dear

to make a scene, I’ve chosen here.

 

Of all the doorways in the world

to choose to sleep, I’ve chosen yours.

I’m on the street, under the stars.

 

For coppers I can dance or sing.

For silver-swallow swords, eat fire.

For gold-escape from locks and chains.

 

It’s not as if I’m holding out

for frankincense or myrrh, just change.

 

You give me tea. That’s big of you.

I’m on my knees. I beg of you.

 

https://readalittlepoetry.wordpress.com/2011/08/07/give-by-simon-armitage/

 

Donald Macaskill

Over the last few days I have been thinking a lot about the idea of ‘inheritance’.

In part this turn of thought has been spurred on by reflections on the COP26 event in Glasgow. The idea that we are passing on a world which is in such a perilous state is one that has been much mentioned in the last few days. As someone with a young child I am painfully aware of the reality that it is not a distant ‘future generation’ that will have to deal with the climate challenges we are failing to meet but a generation which is close and immediate to my heart. The inheritance of those who follow us will be determined greatly by the degree to which we are brave enough to act.

Inheritance is an intriguing concept. As the middle child of a large crofting family, I have never entertained the notion that I would be bestowed with an abundant inheritance and yet at the same time have been throughout my life aware of the sense that inheritance plays a critical role in crofting communities. Inheriting the land, passing on the place and space your forbears have worked and toiled over, where their memories are dug into the peat and soil around you, is and was an intrinsic part of Hebridean culture. Yet it was never, at least for me, about possessiveness and ownership which suggested a domination over and sublimation of the natural world, but rather a sense of passing on the custodianship and care for a place, playing your part in the flow of generations past and to come. The land is inside you and possesses you in a way you can never possess it. I do sometimes think that were such a philosophy of trusteeship and guardianship to become more prevalent that some of the environmental misuse and abuse we have witnessed on our TV screens from around the world in the last week would not have been so commonplace. Our humanity is a passing tenant of the earth we walk.

But there are other concepts and meanings to inheritance which have also played out in my mind this last week. For as we look to the coming week the thoughts of what we remember and remembrance come close into focus.

Inheritance is a key concept in our understanding of remembrance. The act of remembering is a powerful collective tool to enable us to identify ourselves as communities, as nations and as individuals.

We inherit memories from our past – from family and friends – some details are omitted or forgotten, sometimes in order to cope with the hurt or to excuse the guilt; some memories are lost and through oral history they are put back in the place of the heart.

We inherit the story we tell one another; we remember that which has been passed down to us. But there are some truths and experiences lost in the collective acts of memory and remembrance. So, it has always been necessary to give as much value to the individual story as it has been to the collective remembrance.

But this coming week it is important that we not only spend time thinking of our own story but of the collective story of suffering and pain that has shaped our society and community. We are who we are today because of the people whose sacrifice and courage in the face of evil has given us the inheritance of peace. But we are also a people who every day are required to do the work of being in relationship with others in order to make sure the atrocities and horrors of the past are never repeated.

This coming Remembrance Day I will like others seek to spend time thinking of those who I knew and know who stood out against evil and called hope to come; I will walk with my community in its acts of dedication determined that history’s pain will not become tomorrow’s reality, but this year especially I will reflect on the nature of the inheritance I and others will pass on as we remember. It will be a cruel insult to the loss of countless generations were we not to act with determination in a battle against the apathy of those silent as our earth screams for restoration.

What will our children inherit from us in their acts of remembrance? Will they inherit the earth as something wonderful, rich and vibrant or a soil of hurt and tears?  Will they inherit a determination to be better one with the other or a casual loss of courage? Will the stories of unity and strength in solidarity from the battles of the past enable us to act together to gain victory for our planet in the future?

‘Inheritance’ is one of the most famous poems written by the contemporary Irish poet Eavan Boland and it describes the theme of inheritance and what is passed on to new generations. Like the poet I wonder especially in this week of remembrance what it is that we will pass on; will it be a world rescued from suffering and evil in the 20^th century only to be laid waste by the greed of later generations? Will it be a world where the heroic humanity of countless millions stood and continues to stand against hatred, discrimination, and a diminution of human rights? Will it be a world in which the past will be remembered not as an escape for dreamers but as the teacher of a better tomorrow?

Inheritance:

I have been wondering

what I have to leave behind, to give my daughters.

 

No good offering the view

between here and Three Rock Mountain,

the blueness in the hours before rain, the long haze afterwards.

The ground I stood on was never really mine. It might not ever be theirs.

 

And gifts that were passed through generations—

silver and the fluid light left after silk—were never given here.

 

This is an island of waters, inland distances,

with a history of want and women who struggled

to make the nothing which was all they had

into something they could leave behind.

 

I learned so little from them: the lace bobbin with its braided mesh,

its oat-straw pillow and the wheat-colored shawl

knitted in one season

to imitate another

 

are all crafts I never had

and can never hand on. But then again there was a night

I stayed awake, alert and afraid, with my first child

who turned and turned; sick, fretful.

 

When dawn came I held my hand over the absence of fever,

over skin which had stopped burning, as if I knew the secrets

of health and air, as if I understood them

 

and listened to the silence

and thought, I must have learned that somewhere.

 

https://genius.com/Eavan-boland-inheritance-annotated

 

Donald Macaskill

The whole world – at least metaphorically speaking if not physically – seems to be descending on Glasgow as COP26 is due to start this coming week. This is an astonishingly critical moment for humanity and our future. Every media outlet and commentator have been and will be focussing on the events happening by the Clyde.

Over the last few weeks, I have attended several events where issues of climate change and our environmental responsibilities have been discussed. My Scottish Care colleagues together with friends in the Health and Social Care Alliance have over the last few weeks held a fascinating series of webinars on Climate Change and how these issues impact on and are affected by the social care sector in Scotland. I warmly commend the Hot Reports and summaries of what have been fascinating discussions and debates. Also look out for a full report which is due soon.

Today however, I want to consider an element of the environmental struggle and debate, and media coverage which has increasingly made me feel uncomfortable. I have continually heard, not least in the media, phrases like ‘young people are leading the way’, ‘this is a young people’s issue’ ‘we have to save the planet for the young.’ Now do not get me wrong I agree with each of these but there is present in some debate and coverage what I can only call a ‘generational divide’ –if not a blatant ageism. There is an undercurrent of commentary that suggests it is the old who are responsible for the state we are in. This is in danger of being a naïve re-writing of history which whilst based on a chronological reality risks the failure to engage, mobilise and empower an older generation who are critical in the global climate challenge. It also risks making the error of all prejudice which is to create a homogenous group out of the many.

Building generational divides is both unhelpful and unwarranted. The global ecological crisis which we are all collectively experiencing and going to have to face up to is one that recognises no generational priority – it is something which affects us all. The challenges to be faced by COP26 will be met not solely by political leadership but by ordinary people. In Scotland part of that reality is that most of the disposable income and wealth in our nation is in the hands of an older generation. If we are to see the change we require then we have to act in solidarity in facing the challenge and to do so we need to bring all ages with us.

In fact, both nationally and globally it is likely to be the case that climate changes disproportionately affects older persons. So, if there was anyone committed to the challenge then it should be our older citizens.

For instance, it is well recognised that climate change threatens human health, including mental health, access to clean air and water, nutritious food, and shelter. Sadly, it is often older people who are most immediately affected whether it be from loss of life in the devastating floods which we witnessed in central Europe this summer or the drought facing much of sub-Saharan Africa. Everyone is affected by climate change at some point in their lives. But the impacts on those who are already impoverished by lack of healthcare, access to opportunity and poverty are even greater and are often exacerbated by older age.

As we age, we are more vulnerable to the impacts of the climate around us. As has been stated:

“One reason is that normal changes in the body associated with aging, such as muscle and bone loss, can limit mobility. Older adults are also more likely to have a chronic health condition, such as diabetes, that requires medications for treatment. Some older adults, especially those with disabilities, may also need assistance with daily activities. “

Older adults, especially those with chronic health and coronary conditions, are affected by extreme heat and we have already seen a global increase in loss of life because of heatwaves and intense heat. Unexpected weather incidents such as flash-flooding affect us all but the ability to respond to rapid emergencies is lessened when you get older and older adults are more likely to be affected by loss of life in catastrophic events such as storms and floods. Older people are also more likely to be affected by the negative impact that climate change has on air quality especially in areas of built-up environments. All in all, there are significant health impacts on our older population both now and potentially in the future.

Unless we engage and convince our older citizens of the criticality of climate change then the effort will be doomed to failure. And indeed, we should not presume that this is a population not already active and engaged. There are a good number of organisations of older people both in Scotland and internationally who are at the heart of their communities’ responses to the urgency of these issues. Let us not fall foul of casual ageism and improper impugning of culpability. We must do more to harness the voice and energy of older age on climate change.

The saving of the planet calls for collective action and the insights, experience, creativity and ingenuity; the passion and intellect brought by older age has much to add to that struggle. Wouldn’t it be great if the much-desired Older Person’s Commissioner for Scotland had as a core responsibility of their role the resourcing and encouraging of our older population to become environmental champions? Why therefore do we not have a Climate Commissioner or Green Commissioner? – the EU has one as do some cities – Scotland at the very least could do that by creating an independent office able to hold government and civic society, business and commerce accountable for all our environmental response regardless of age.

Before her amazing Inauguration poem, the poet Amanda Gorman had already written about a whole range of issues not least of which was her environmental concerns.  As we ponder upon and hope for real, meaningful political action coming out of COP26, I leave you with some extracts from her amazing poem ‘Earthrise’ which she wrote in August 2018, and which was dedicated to Al Gore and The Climate Reality Project.  Please read the full poem at https://naaee.org/eepro/blog/earthrise-poem-amanda-gorman

‘On Christmas Eve, 1968, astronaut Bill Anders
Snapped a photo of the earth
As Apollo 8 orbited the moon.
Those three guys
Were surprised
To see from their eyes
Our planet looked like an earthrise
A blue orb hovering over the moon’s gray horizon,
with deep oceans and silver skies.

It was our world’s first glance at itself
Our first chance to see a shared reality,
A declared stance and a commonality;

A glimpse into our planet’s mirror,
And as threats drew nearer,
Our own urgency became clearer,
As we realize that we hold nothing dearer
than this floating body we all call home.

…

Climate change is the single greatest challenge of our time,

Of this, you’re certainly aware.
It’s saddening, but I cannot spare you
From knowing an inconvenient fact, because
It’s getting the facts straight that gets us to act and not to wait.

So I tell you this not to scare you,
But to prepare you, to dare you
To dream a different reality,

Where despite disparities
We all care to protect this world,
This riddled blue marble, this little true marvel
To muster the verve and the nerve
To see how we can serve
Our planet. You don’t need to be a politician
To make it your mission to conserve, to protect,
To preserve that one and only home
That is ours,
To use your unique power
To give next generations the planet they deserve.

….

To see it, close your eyes.
Visualize that all of us leaders in this room
and outside of these walls or in the halls, all
of us changemakers are in a spacecraft,
Floating like a silver raft
in space, and we see the face of our planet anew.
We relish the view;
We witness its round green and brilliant blue,
Which inspires us to ask deeply, wholly:
What can we do?
Open your eyes.
Know that the future of
this wise planet
Lies right in sight:
Right in all of us. Trust
this earth uprising.
All of us bring light to exciting solutions never tried before
For it is our hope that implores us, at our uncompromising core,
To keep rising up for an earth more than worth fighting for.’

 

Donald Macaskill