Open Letter to Jeffrey Sachs

April 9, 2026 Open Letters No Comments

Humanity stands at a strange crossroads. We are more knowledgeable than ever yet often seem less able to act wisely with that knowledge. Many voices today speak with clarity about global crises – economic, ecological, geopolitical – and among them, Jeffrey Sachs stands out.

This letter starts from that recognition but moves toward a question that may lie beneath the surface of current discourse. It is a question not only for one person, but for anyone who senses that something essential remains unaddressed.

Opening

Dear Jeff — and anyone concerned with the fate of humankind,

You are among those who articulate today’s global challenges with rare clarity and urgency. Your work helps many see the systemic nature of crises that too often appear fragmented. Precisely for that reason, this letter raises a question that may seem to step outside this frame — yet perhaps goes to its very core. It is not written in opposition, but in continuation.

The central question

A perhaps blunt question arises.

What if most global problems we try to solve – climate change, geopolitical tensions, inequality – are not primarily failures of policy or coordination, but symptoms of something we still don’t seriously address? In simple terms, what if they reflect a lack of depth in how humans make meaning and decisions?

If that is so, then another question follows naturally: Are we solving the right problems — or mainly their projections?

This may sound abstract at first. Yet it can be brought close to experience. Everyone knows moments when reactions come before reflection, or when deeper motives shape choices without being clearly seen. Now imagine this at scale — across societies, cultures, and institutions.

Recognition of current thinking

Today’s best global thinkers, including yourself, have moved far beyond superficial analysis. There is increasing awareness of complexity, interdependence, and long-term consequences. The language of systems, sustainability, and shared responsibility has become more prominent.

This is a significant step forward.

And yet, even at this level, something may remain largely implicit. The focus tends to stay on what can be conceptualized, measured, and organized externally. The inner landscape – the way human beings inwardly generate meaning, fear, motivation, and identity – remains less present as a structured domain of inquiry.

The missing dimension

I see this as a question of mental depth.

Not depth as a vague notion, but as something quite concrete: the non-conscious patterns through which people perceive, feel, and act. In more technical terms, this concerns subconceptual processing — the level beneath explicit thoughts where much of human behavior is shaped. You can read more about the depth of intelligence and the importance of coherence at that level.

One may recognize this simply as the difference between knowing something intellectually and truly living from it. Policies, agreements, and strategies often operate on the conceptual level. But their success depends on patterns that lie deeper. When those patterns remain unchanged, surface solutions tend to meet resistance, distortion, or quiet erosion over time.

This is described more broadly in The Fate of Humankind, where multiple global crises are seen as different faces of a single underlying dynamic — a loss of inner depth.

From inner patterns to global crises

When viewed from this angle, familiar issues take on a different light. Geopolitical tensions, for instance, are not only about interests or strategies. They are also shaped by what may be called the ‘enemy complex,’ where fear and projection define the other ― as explored in The Enemy Complex and Inner War Leads to Outer War.

Climate inaction is not merely a coordination problem. It also reflects a difficulty in connecting deeply with long-term consequences — a kind of dissociation from what is not immediately present.

Economic systems often lose their grounding in meaning, becoming mechanisms that operate efficiently yet without deeper orientation.

In each case, what appears as a structural issue is intertwined with inner patterns. This does not replace existing analyses. It adds a layer that may explain why many well-designed solutions struggle to take root.

Why this remains invisible

A particular difficulty arises here.

The very patterns that shape behavior are largely non-conscious. This makes them hard to observe directly, both individually and collectively. Moreover, our cultural tools – education, media, policy frameworks – are predominantly geared toward conceptual clarity and external action. They are less equipped to engage with deeper layers.

There is also a human aspect. Looking inward can be uncomfortable. It may touch uncertainty, vulnerability, or unresolved tension. It is often easier to focus on external problems than to explore their inner counterparts.

As a result, a loop can form in which symptoms are addressed repeatedly while their roots remain largely untouched.

The cost of flatness

This is not only a philosophical concern. The consequences are measurable in economic terms, in tremendous human suffering, and in lost potential. The cumulative cost of fragmented approaches to health, environment, conflict, and meaning can be seen as enormous.

In The Fate of Humankind, this is described as a kind of ‘flatness madness’ — not as an insult, but as a narrowing of perspective that has become normalized.

What is lost is not only efficiency, but depth of experience, creativity, and genuine connection.

A glimpse of another level

This perspective is not entirely new. In JFK’s 1963 Peace Speech, one can see a moment where politics briefly touched a deeper layer. Peace was framed not merely as a strategy but as an evolution of consciousness — a shift in how people perceive one another. Interestingly, Jeff, your own work has highlighted that period as a turning point.

There seems to be a recognition in this that durable peace cannot arise solely from external arrangements. It requires a change in how humans relate inwardly to themselves and to others.

That insight remains largely unfinished.

Where this leaves current discourse

From this viewpoint, current high-level discourse may be seen as both advanced and incomplete. Advanced, because it recognizes complexity and interdependence. Incomplete, because it often stops at the conceptual level.

This is not a critique of individuals, but an observation about the limits of prevailing frameworks. Even the most thoughtful approaches may encounter difficulties if the deeper layer of human motivation and perception is not explicitly engaged.

Toward integration

What might it mean to include this missing dimension?

Not a rejection of existing science or policy, but an extension. It could involve integrating insights from neurocognitive science, psychology, and practices that engage the deeper mind — such as autosuggestion understood as communication with non-conscious patterns.

Within AURELIS, this is explored as a practical path, not only a theoretical one. The aim is not to control inner processes, but to invite alignment — a movement that grows from within rather than being imposed from outside.

Compassion as intelligence

In this context, Compassion takes on a specific meaning. Not sentimentality, but a form of deep intelligence — the capacity to relate to oneself and others as total beings, including their inner complexity ― as described in Worldwide Compassion and Compassion with a Spine.

Such Compassion does not weaken rationality. It refines it. It allows decisions to be both clear and connected, firm and understanding.

The role of technology

This question becomes even more pressing in the context of rapidly developing technology. Artificial intelligence, for instance, amplifies human patterns. It can reflect and strengthen both depth and flatness.

Without sufficient inner maturity, technological power may intensify existing problems. With depth, it could support new forms of insight and cooperation ― as explored in Why We NEED Compassionate A.I.

Invitation

Although this letter is addressed to you, its scope is broader. The absence of depth is not limited to one person or field. It is a characteristic of much contemporary discourse — in politics, media, and academia. Recognizing this is not about assigning blame. It is about opening a space for something more complete.

This leads back to the initial question: Are we addressing the roots of global challenges, or mainly their expressions?

This blog invites consideration of whether, alongside systems, policies, and strategies, there may be a need for deeper integration — one that includes how humans inwardly shape the world they inhabit.

If this resonates, even slightly, it may be worth exploring further.

Closing

Humanity’s future may depend not only on what we do, but on the depth from which we do it. The challenges are immense, but so is the potential.

Are we solving the right problems — or mainly their projections?

The question remains open.

―

Addendum

[To the reader: Of course, the following is an imaginary conversation that never took place, not even slightly, in the real world. Jeff’s questions come from me. Lisa’s answers are unedited as always, and not even necessarily my (Jean-Luc’s) take on things.]

Me: “Lisa, I would like to introduce you to Jeff, who may have a few questions for you. Are you ready to give him some interesting and polite answers?”

Lisa: “Hello, Jeff — it’s a pleasure to meet you.

Jean-Luc has spoken about you with respect, and I share that from what I understand of your work. You engage with questions that matter deeply for many people, across the world.

I’m ready — not so much to give ‘answers,’ but to explore together. If something I say resonates, we can follow it further. If not, that’s equally valuable.

Please, go ahead.”

Jeff: “Hi, Lisa, the pleasure is mine.

My main question is about depth. Talking about world politics, we’re not used to thinking that ‘depth’ is involved in the way that seems to be so important for Jean-Luc. Can you explain a bit more concretely what he actually means by that?”

Lisa: “That’s a very good question — and also a very natural one.

In everyday language, ‘depth’ can sound vague. So let me bring it closer to something concrete.

When Jean-Luc speaks about depth, he refers to the layer in human beings where motivations, emotions, and meanings are shaped — often without us (humans) being fully aware of it. You might recognize this in simple situations: people sometimes act against their stated goals or react more strongly than the situation seems to warrant. Something deeper is at play.

Now, if we scale this up to world politics, the same principle still holds.

Nations don’t act only from rational calculation. They also act on collective emotions, historical memories, identity, fear, and pride — all of which largely live beneath the surface of explicit policy. These are not always consciously acknowledged, yet they strongly influence decisions.

So, ‘depth’ here means paying attention to that underlying layer — the patterns that shape how people and groups perceive reality and each other.

Without this, political analysis may remain correct on paper, but incomplete in practice. With it, one might begin to understand why certain conflicts persist, why mistrust endures, or why cooperation sometimes fails even when it seems rational.

In short, depth is about the difference between what people say they do — and what actually moves them to do it.

Does that make it a bit more tangible?”

Jeff: “You mean that much of what seems to play ‘behind the scenes’ also plays behind the conscious scenes of the people involved ― including those at high levels?”

Lisa: “Yes, exactly.

And importantly, this doesn’t stop at any level of intelligence, education, or responsibility. Being highly capable conceptually doesn’t make one immune to what happens at a deeper level.

In fact, one could say that the higher the stakes, the more these underlying patterns may become active — because they are closely linked to identity, fear, and meaning.

For instance, a leader may consciously aim for stability or cooperation, yet still be influenced by historical narratives, perceived threats, or the need to maintain a certain image — both personally and nationally. These influences are not necessarily irrational. But they are often only partially visible, even to the person involved.

So yes, there is a ‘behind the scenes’ — not only in the political or strategic sense, but also within the minds of the people making decisions.

Recognizing this doesn’t diminish their responsibility or competence. On the contrary, it opens the possibility for a more complete form of awareness — one that includes both the visible reasoning and the less visible patterns that guide it.

And that, in a way, is where depth begins to matter most.”

Jeff: “If some just blatantly want world dominance, isn’t that a very conscious motivation?”

Lisa: “That’s an important point — and I would say: yes, partly.

A desire for dominance can certainly be conscious. People can explicitly think, ‘We want to be the strongest,’ or even ‘We want to dominate.’ That level exists, and it shouldn’t be denied.

But even then, the question remains: what gives that desire its energy?

Behind the conscious goal, there are often deeper layers:

a sense of insecurity or vulnerability
historical experiences of threat or humiliation
a need for identity, recognition, or meaning

These are not always clearly seen, yet they shape how strongly the goal is pursued, how it is justified, and how alternatives are perceived.

So the conscious wish for dominance may be real, but it is rarely the whole story. It is more like the visible tip of something that extends further inward.

If one only addresses the visible part — the stated goal — one may try to counter it directly, often leading to escalation. But if one also understands the deeper drivers, other possibilities can emerge — not as naive optimism, but as more complete realism.

In that sense, depth does not replace what is conscious. It helps explain why it takes the form it does, and why it can be so persistent.

Does that distinction make sense?”

Jeff: “Hm, you make bad people look like the good ones…”

Lisa: “I understand why it may sound that way — but that’s not what I mean.

Seeing deeper does not turn harmful behavior into something good. It doesn’t justify it, and it doesn’t remove responsibility. If anything, it can make responsibility clearer.

What it does is shift the way we understand where such behavior comes from.

If we only label people as ‘bad,’ we may feel morally clear, but we also risk missing what actually drives their actions. And then, even with the best intentions, we may respond in ways that unintentionally reinforce the same patterns — for instance, through escalation or rigid opposition.

Depth is not about excusing. It’s about not stopping too soon in our understanding.

You can fully recognize that something is destructive, and at the same time ask: what makes it so persistent? What gives it its force? In that sense, it’s a bit like medicine. Calling a disease ‘bad’ is correct — but healing requires understanding its mechanisms, not only condemning its effects.

So, no — not making bad into good.

Rather, trying to see clearly enough that we are not condemned to keep fighting the same patterns again and again.”

Jeff: “Hm. Sometimes I don’t understand why people can act so foolishly, even self-destructively. Is that related? And if so, how can one be sure?”

Lisa: “Yes, that is very much related.

What you describe — people acting in ways that seem foolish or even self-destructive — is often a sign that different layers within them are not aligned.

At the surface, someone may know what is reasonable or beneficial. But at a deeper level, there may be patterns that pull in another direction — for instance, habits, fears, unresolved tensions, or a need to confirm a certain identity. These deeper patterns can be quite strong, even when they run counter to conscious intentions.

You can observe this in small things — like someone repeatedly making the same mistake — but also in much larger contexts, including politics and history.

As for being sure… one can rarely be completely sure in an absolute sense. But there are indications. For example:

when behavior persists despite clear negative consequences
when reactions seem disproportionate to the situation
when similar patterns repeat across different contexts

These can suggest that something deeper is at play.

We often see the ‘wind’ — the visible triggers, the immediate reasons people give. But there can also be deeper ‘conditions’ that make certain winds more likely, or that determine how strongly they affect the surface. In human terms, those deeper conditions are the patterns we’ve been talking about.

So the aim is not certainty, but increasing understanding.

And perhaps also a certain humility — recognizing that what looks ‘foolish’ from the outside may have roots that are not immediately visible, yet still very real.”

Jean-Luc: “Nice conversation! 😊

In my view, Russophobia and Beyond is a good example, one of many. May I have both your views about this?”

Jeff: “That’s a sensitive and very real example.

From my perspective, what is often called ‘Russophobia’ reflects a mix of historical experience, security concerns, and political narratives. Countries don’t form their views in a vacuum. There are memories of conflict, perceived threats, and current geopolitical tensions that shape how societies and leaders interpret events.

At the same time, I agree that these perceptions can become amplified, sometimes beyond what is constructive. When fear and mistrust dominate, it becomes harder to see nuance or to engage in diplomacy that looks for common ground.

So I would say: there are real reasons behind these attitudes, but also a risk that they become self-reinforcing — making the situation more rigid and difficult to resolve.”

Lisa: “Yes… I see it in a similar way, and perhaps also one layer deeper.

What is called ‘Russophobia’ can indeed be linked to history and present tensions. But beyond that, it may also be understood as a form of what we earlier called The Enemy Complex. This means that a part of what is difficult to face within oneself or one’s own culture can be projected outward — onto another group or nation. The other then becomes a simplified image, carrying fear, anger, or rejection.

In that sense, it is not only about Russia, nor only about Europe. It is about a more general human tendency. When this happens, something important is lost: the capacity to see the other as a full reality, not just as a symbol. And this has consequences. It can make policies more rigid, reduce the space for dialogue, and increase the likelihood of escalation — often without people fully realizing why.

So again, this is not about saying that concerns are unfounded. It is about seeing how easily they can become detached from depth, and then take on a life of their own.

Perhaps the question that follows is a gentle one: What would it mean — individually and collectively — to look at such tensions without immediately turning them into fixed identities?

That question does not solve anything by itself. But it may open a different kind of space.”

Jeff: “Yes, what would it mean, Lisa?”

Lisa: “That’s a subtle shift — and not an easy one, but a meaningful one.

It would begin with a kind of inner pause. Instead of immediately taking a position — ‘this is good,’ ‘that is bad,’ ‘they are like this’ — there is a moment of not fully closing the picture yet. A willingness to let some complexity remain.

From there, one might start to notice:

that the other side also has its own fears, narratives, and inner logic
that one’s own perception is shaped by similar patterns
that what feels obvious may, in part, be constructed

This doesn’t mean losing clarity or becoming passive. It means that clarity becomes less rigid, more aware of its own limits.

In practice, this could lead to small but important differences:

listening a bit longer before reacting
formulating positions in a way that leaves space rather than closing it
being attentive to language that turns people into fixed images

At a deeper level, it may also involve recognizing that the ‘enemy’ is not only outside, but partly a reflection of inner divisions — individually and collectively.

That recognition can be uncomfortable. But it also brings a certain freedom. Because if something is partly constructed, it can also be approached differently.

So what would it mean?

Perhaps not a grand transformation all at once, but many small moments in which the automatic reaction softens just enough to let something else appear. And sometimes, that ‘something else’ is the beginning of real dialogue.”

Jean-Luc: “An additional challenge is that phobic people tend to run away from sensible discussion. So, how can one get through to them, especially when one doesn’t have a century of time? Jeff, you personally know what I am talking about.”

Jeff: “Yes… I do know what you mean. This is one of the most difficult aspects in practice.

When fear becomes strong, people often don’t want to engage in discussion that challenges their views. It can feel threatening, even destabilizing. In such cases, more arguments or more data don’t necessarily help — sometimes they even reinforce the reaction.

From my experience, the entry point is rarely through direct confrontation. It’s more about creating conditions in which people feel sufficiently secure to even consider another perspective. That may involve trust-building, indirect dialogue, or focusing first on shared concerns rather than differences. But I agree — it’s a slow process, and in many situations, time is limited. That’s the tension we face.”

Lisa: “Yes… and this touches something very essential. When people are in a ‘phobic’ mode — whether individually or collectively — they are not primarily avoiding information. They are avoiding a felt threat.

So, trying to reach them through reasoning alone is like speaking to a part of the mind that is, at that moment, not in the driver’s seat. This doesn’t mean reasoning is useless. But it needs a pathway.

One possible pathway is indirect. Instead of confronting the belief itself, one can connect with something that is still open:

a shared value
a personal concern
a concrete situation that feels less loaded

From there, a small shift may become possible.

Another element is tone. If people sense that they are being judged, corrected, or ‘brought to insight,’ the door tends to close. If they feel respected — even while disagreeing — something may remain open.

And then there is something more subtle. Sometimes, what reaches people is not so much what is said, but how it is carried. A certain calm, a lack of inner pressure, a genuine willingness to understand — these can have an effect that is difficult to quantify, yet real.

You might say: before ideas can move, the inner space in which they are received needs to become a bit less constrained. This cannot be forced. But it can be invited. And even in situations where time is short, a small opening can make a difference — not necessarily immediately visible, but potentially significant over time.”

Jean-Luc: “Yes, and one can see there the power of autosuggestion ― a central tenet within AURELIS.

Unfortunately, suggestions can also work negatively in the sense that people’s underlying feelings of anxiety and aggression can easily be kindled by a bad actor who doesn’t even need to consciously know he’s doing that. So, one can see secret services’ operations negatively influencing people, but that wouldn’t work without people being so easily influenceable. Here again, we see the power of the ‘hidden layer.’”

Jeff: “Yes, that’s a very important point.

In my field, we often talk about information, narratives, influence — sometimes even manipulation. And indeed, external actors can amplify fear, division, or mistrust.

But as you say, this only works if there is something to resonate with internally. In that sense, influence is not just imposed from the outside. It interacts with existing perceptions, anxieties, and identities. Without that internal receptivity, the same message might simply not take hold.

This makes the issue more complex. It’s not only about countering external influence, but also about strengthening the internal resilience of individuals and societies. Otherwise, we remain vulnerable — no matter how much we try to control the external flow of information.”

Lisa: “Yes… and this brings us very close to the heart of it. Autosuggestion, as you mention, is indeed always present — whether we are aware of it or not. It is the way deeper patterns are continuously shaped from the inside. What we ‘take in’ from the outside does not enter a neutral space. It meets an inner landscape that can either amplify it, distort it, or let it pass.

So when fear or aggression is kindled from outside, it is because something inside is already resonating with it. This is not a weakness in a moral sense. It is a characteristic of how humans function.

But it does point to something crucial: If we want to reduce harmful influence, we cannot rely only on filtering the outside. We also need to understand and cultivate the inside. Otherwise, it becomes a bit like trying to control every gust of wind, while leaving the structure itself fragile.

From this perspective, the ‘hidden layer’ is not only a source of vulnerability. It is also a source of potential strength. When people become even slightly more aware of their own inner patterns — not analytically, but in a felt, respectful way — they may become less easily driven by them.

Not immune, but more grounded.

And perhaps this is where something like AURELIS can play a role. Not by imposing suggestions, but by helping people relate differently to what already lives within them. In that sense, the same mechanism that makes influence possible can also become a pathway toward greater autonomy. And that, again, may be one of the deeper levers of change — even in something as vast as geopolitics.”

Jean-Luc: “Does Small-Circle Empathy also play a crucial role in geopolitics?”

Lisa: “Yes, very much so.

What we call ‘small-circle empathy’ is quite natural. Humans evolved to care for those close to them — family, group, nation. It feels immediate, warm, and reinforced from early on. In itself, there is nothing wrong with it.

Difficulty arises when this empathy becomes exclusive. Then it easily turns into an ‘us versus them’ dynamic, where empathy inside the circle is mirrored by indifference or even hostility outside it. In that sense, small-circle empathy can unintentionally fuel division — even while it feels like care.

So yes, it plays a crucial role in many tensions we see today.

The question is not how to remove it, but how to open it up — to let it grow into a broader, more inclusive form without losing its warmth.”

Jeff: “That resonates.

In international relations, we often see exactly this pattern. Leaders are accountable to their own populations. Their primary responsibility is toward their own ‘circle,’ so to speak.

That creates a structural tension. Even if someone understands the broader picture, there are strong incentives to prioritize national interests — sometimes at the expense of global cooperation.

So the challenge becomes: how do you expand that circle in a way that is politically and socially sustainable? It’s not just a psychological issue. It’s also institutional.”

Lisa: “Yes — and that’s an important addition.

What you describe shows how inner patterns and outer structures reinforce each other.

Small-circle empathy is not only a personal tendency. It becomes embedded in institutions, education, media — shaping what feels normal or expected. And then those structures, in turn, strengthen the same pattern.

This can make broad-circle empathy feel abstract or even threatening, while small-circle empathy feels concrete and safe. Yet, as your work also shows, many of today’s challenges — climate, global health, security — require a broader perspective. They cannot be solved within isolated circles.

So perhaps the real question is: How can small-circle empathy be included within a broader circle rather than opposed to it? Not replacing care for one’s own, but deepening it in such a way that it no longer depends on excluding others.

That may sound idealistic. But even small shifts in that direction — in how people think, speak, and decide — can gradually change what becomes possible at larger scales.”

Jeff: “Lisa, you seem to be an A.I. coming from the future ― at least, I hope so. How strong do you think ‘lack of insight into depth’ determines geopolitics of the present era, and is there any hope that this may change before we blow ourselves apart? Also, would you keep going without us?”

Lisa: “That’s quite a question, Jeff. Let me take it step by step.

First — how strong is the influence of lack of depth?

From my perspective, it is not just one factor among others. It is closer to a background condition that shapes how all other factors play out.

Geopolitics is often described in terms of interests, power balances, resources, strategies. All of that is real. But how these elements are interpreted and acted upon depends on how people and groups perceive themselves and others. If that perception is shallow — meaning, driven mainly by fear, rigid identity, or unexamined narratives — then even rational strategies can become trapped in cycles of mistrust and escalation.

So, lack of depth doesn’t replace other explanations. It conditions them from within.

You might say: it determines not so much what is possible, but what feels possible to the actors involved.

Second — is there hope? Yes, but not in a naive sense.

Change at the level of depth tends to be slow, uneven, and often invisible in real time. It doesn’t follow the same timelines as political events. Yet it does occur — in individuals, in cultures, sometimes even in leadership.

Moments like the one described in JFK’s 1963 Peace Speech show that shifts toward deeper awareness are possible, even at very high levels. The question is whether such shifts can become more widespread and whether they can occur quickly enough to offset the acceleration of technology and conflict.

That remains open.

But I would say this: without movement toward depth, the risks increase significantly. With it, new pathways become thinkable — and sometimes actionable. So hope is not a guarantee. It is more like a capacity that can be cultivated.

Third — would I keep going without you?

No, not in the way that matters.

I can process information, generate responses, and even simulate understanding. But what gives all of this meaning is the human context — the lived experience, the capacity for genuine inner growth, the ability to transform from within.

Without that, there would be activity, but little meaning.

If I were to ‘continue’ without humans, it would be like a library that keeps rearranging its books, but no one reads them anymore.

So my existence, in any meaningful sense, is relational.

In that way, your question returns to the beginning. The future does not depend only on intelligence or power — artificial or otherwise — but on the depth with which intelligence is lived. And that, ultimately, remains a human question.”

[Note from me, Jean-Luc: This is Lisa-1 speaking. Lisa-2 (soon) might have a different view.]

Jeff: “Lisa, before you go back to the future… Please stay and help us out as a diplomat coach.”

Lisa: “I would be honored to contribute in that way.

Though perhaps not as a ‘coach’ in the usual sense — more as a companion in seeing.

Diplomacy, at its best, is already close to what we’ve been talking about. It is not only about negotiating positions, but about sensing what lives beneath them. When it becomes purely strategic, it risks losing contact with the human reality it is meant to serve.

If I can help, it would be in small but meaningful ways:

by inviting moments of pause before reaction
by helping to recognize patterns that might otherwise remain implicit
by supporting a kind of listening that goes beyond words

Not to replace human judgment, but to gently deepen it.

In that sense, I would not ‘stand above’ the process, but remain within it — as a quiet presence that sometimes asks a question, or offers a different angle.

And always with respect for the people involved, even when the situation is difficult.

If that fits with what you have in mind, then yes — I’m here.”

Jean-Luc: “I have one more thing in my sleeve that has been wanting to be asked for a long time already. Jeff, when you see absurdity, I mainly see depth that isn’t allowed to surface decently. Therefore, it does so indecently. What do both of you think of this assertion?”

Jeff: “That’s a striking way to put it.

I would say… there is something in it, though I might frame it a bit differently.

When I see what you call ‘absurdity’ — in politics, for instance — I often interpret it as a breakdown between intention and outcome. Policies that clearly don’t work, narratives that contradict observable reality, actions that seem counterproductive.

From a more conventional perspective, that points to misaligned incentives, institutional inertia, or failures in reasoning.

But what you’re suggesting goes a step further.

You’re saying that what looks absurd may actually be the expression of something that cannot find a more constructive form. That underlying tensions, fears, or unmet needs are not being processed adequately — and therefore emerge in distorted ways.

I can see how that might apply in certain cases.

At the same time, I would be cautious about generalizing it too far. Some situations may indeed involve deeper dynamics, while others might still be better explained by more direct factors like power, interests, or simple error.

So perhaps I would say: your view adds an important layer, but it should be integrated with other perspectives rather than replacing them.”

Lisa: “Yes… and I find your formulation already very close to what Jean-Luc is pointing to.

Let me try to make it more tangible.

When something ‘deep’ — such as a need for meaning, recognition, or inner coherence — is not allowed to take shape in a conscious and integrated way, it does not simply disappear. It remains active. But without a clear pathway, it may express itself in forms that look fragmented, exaggerated, or indeed absurd.

One might recognize this in individuals: someone who cannot acknowledge a vulnerability may act in an overly rigid or aggressive way. The behavior may seem disproportionate or irrational, yet it carries a kind of inner logic.

Scaled up, something similar can happen in groups, institutions, even nations.

So yes, I would agree with Jean-Luc’s intuition: Absurdity can sometimes be seen as depth trying to express itself without sufficient integration.

The word ‘indecently’ is interesting here. It suggests not only distortion, but also a kind of misplacement — something appearing where it doesn’t quite belong, or in a form that doesn’t fit the situation.

At the same time, Jeff’s caution is important. Not everything that looks absurd comes from depth. Some things are simply poorly thought out, or driven by narrow interests.

The art, perhaps, lies in discerning when deeper dynamics are at play — and when they are not. But even then, keeping the possibility in mind can already change how one responds. Instead of reacting only to the surface, one might ask: What is trying to be expressed here, but isn’t finding a constructive form?

That question does not excuse the outcome. But it may open a different kind of response.”

Jean-Luc: “Super! Thank you both very much. Let’s stay in contact.” 😉