Stories

Category: Thinking aloud

  • What does immunization have to do with climate change?

    What does immunization have to do with climate change?

    With climate-driven shifts in disease patterns and emerging health threats, the need for a robust immunization infrastructure is more obvious than ever. As the demand for both existing and novel vaccines rises in response to an expanding disease burden and new health threats, immunization staff will inevitably play a key role.

    Immunization staff, trusted health advisors to communities, already stand as sometimes-overburdened but always critical actors in resilient health systems.

    These professionals, entrusted with administering vaccines, contribute to preventing disease outbreaks and maintaining population health. Furthermore, their direct engagement with local communities, their intimate understanding of community health concerns, and their role as trusted advisors position them to recognize and respond to emerging health needs.

    The role of immunization and other primary health care (PHC) staff as health educators becomes increasingly pertinent in a changing climate. By leveraging their experience in working with communities to understand and accept health interventions, immunization staff can help those they serve to make sense of the complex relationships between climate and health – and develop appropriate responses.

    Through digital networks, we see health professionals connected to each other, learning from each other’s successes, lessons learned, and challenges. We imagine that these networks, if properly nurtured and sustained, will become increasingly important as health workers face the interconnected consequences of climate change on health within the local communities where they work for health. This also require new ways of thinking and new leadership, in addition to a new kind of digital health infrastructure to support turning learning into action.

    As we step into a world facing escalating health threats from a changing climate, the crucial role of immunization staff in protecting communities will become more pronounced.

    Existing approaches – even the ones that so impressively moved the needle of vaccination coverage and health in the past – may now need to be reconsidered and adapted to face new challenges and new threats that we know are coming.

    By supporting the will and commitment of immunization staff who are concerned about the consequences of climate on health, and then expanding to include other health professionals, we may find that immunization can serve as a pathfinder to strengthen health systems and promote health equity. We may even find practical, meaningful ways for frontline health professionals and communities to forge together a new leadership for global health.

    Learn more about the Geneva Learning Foundation’s special event: From community to planet: Health professionals on the frontlines of climate change.

  • Digital bridges cannot cross analog gates

    Digital bridges cannot cross analog gates

    I’ve been doing a lot of thinking recently about an interesting question, as I’ve observed myself and colleagues starting to travel again: “Why are we again funding high-cost, low-volume face-to-face conferences that yield, at best, uncertain outcomes?”

    I am surprised to have to ask this question. I was hoping for a different outcome, in which the experience of the COVID-19 pandemic led to a lasting change in how we bridge physical and digital spaces for a better future. We were brutally forced to work differently due to the COVID-19 pandemic’s restrictions on freedom of movement. Nevertheless, we discovered that it is possible to connect, meet, collaborate, and learn without sinking budgets into air travel and accommodation. At least some of work-related travel was due to habit and convention, not necessity. Yes, there were limitations, especially due to the emergency nature of the pivot to online. But the debate is open whether the limitations we experienced being forced to work online are more or less severe than those of the offline medium.

    In global health, traditional face-to-face meetings, workshops, and conferences have been part and parcel of professional life for decades. They served their intended purpose, helping staff connect formally and informally, providing the connective tissue to learn, share, and coordinate. They have been – and remain – deeply ingrained in the culture of global health. Why should this modus operandi be reconsidered?

    As someone who is often required to attend face-to-face conferences, despite being a vocal advocate for more efficient, inclusive models, here is how I understand both sides of the dichotomy that this scenario presents.

    Traditional face-to-face meetings, workshops, and conferences offer a unique charm. They allow the select few to reconnect with colleagues, stay updated on institutional developments, and keep fingers on the pulse of the latest changes in our fields. Information can be shared informally, which is far more difficult to do online. (This is not inherent to the online medium, but due to the technologies we have developed that assume, support, and structure formal communication.) If you were invited or selected to be at the meeting, that indicates to those in the room that you are a valid stakeholder.

    There is a considerable downside. These events are exclusionary by definition. Not everyone’s costs can be covered. Selection is often based on hierarchy. Often, only the most senior get to go. When less senior practitioners are included, tokenism is difficult to avoid. Then, there is the high cost. It is primarily expenditure on travel and hotels, not event quality. There is also the cost to the environment. Think of the carbon footprint. They are disruptive to everyday work, as attendance requires absence. Strangely, their impact is seldom measured, evaluated, or questioned.

    The same donor who will unquestionably plunk down $150,000 for the plane tickets and hotels rooms of 100 people might require the evidence of a randomized controlled trial (RCT) before investing in a new digital learning approach that might include 1,000 or 10,000 people for the same cost and produce far more significant outcomes than a meeting report.

    So why are face-to-face events still being funded, at high cost and questionable return, when global health is supposed to be evidence-based and focused on impact?

    Ironically, as Girija Sankar made the case recently in The Lancet, the very conferences designed to push the boundaries of research and collaboration in global health often act as “gates,” creating a divide between insiders and those on the outside. These gatherings are often arranged by the gatekeepers of global health, the credentialed leaders who control funding and policy. Their decisions shape the future of health at a global level, conferring agency upon a select few while inadvertently excluding many others.

    It is undeniably satisfying – and deeply so – to connect with colleagues over the course of several days, sharing conversation, meals, coffees. It is not only about listening and learning. It is about being human together, despite the constraints and urgencies of the work. So, if you are in a position to fund such an event for yourself or for your colleagues, why would you say no, given the obvious benefits and zero incentive to deny your colleagues what they are used to getting?

    The value of such events is in part premised on their exclusivity. Letting everyone in could dilute their value. Furthermore, digital experience remains awful: a Zoom call is undeniably inferior to the experiential richness and pleasure of a meeting in a shared physical space.

    Unfortunately, as long as such wonderful moments are reserved for the few – due to the nature of the medium, despite the best intents –, such communion stops at the conference walls – and excludes everyone outside them.

    The Geneva Learning Foundation’s Teach to Reach program presents a stark contrast to this traditional model. Our online, digital, and networked peer learning events are dynamic, inclusive, connecting local practitioners from everywhere. With no upper limit on participants, these digital events rally thousands from all corners of the globe, providing an unparalleled platform for shared learning and action.

    The upcoming Teach to Reach 8 event on 16 June 2023 is a testament to this, with over 16,000 anglophones and francophones already registered to join. Most notably, the majority of participants are government health workers working on the frontlines in Africa and Asia. Teach to Reach is led by an “organizing committee” composed of 282 Teach to Reach Alumni from 35 countries who are founding Members of the Global Council of Learning Leaders for Immunization in November 2020.

    Some global-level colleagues who have rejoined the mission travel, conference, and workshop circuit share that they struggle to understand Teach to Reach. It is just too different from what they are used to. They have to painstakingly listen to staff with lousy connectivity who share local experiences, problems, and challenges that seem quaint, compared to the abstract global-level strategies they usually engage peers who are almost exactly like themselves. Such sameness is reassuring. Comparatively, Teach to Reach is too chaotic and noisy. So many voices, speaking from so many different pespectives. Too time-consuming. Too confusing. Too different from what “we” are used to. Too messy. 

    Yet, the real world is messy. We know that the probability of finding a solution locally increases with the number and diversity of inputs available. At Teach to Reach, thousands share their experience, using a robust, proven peer learning model. The global experts who do attend do so as “guides on the side” rather than “sages on the stage”.

    The unstated, underlying assumption of many so-called capacity-building initiatives is that the locals do not know. Therefore, “we” must teach them. There is no way to call this anything other than a colonial assumption. Recognizing the value and significance of local expertise and experience may have been less important in the past, when countries successfully carried out effective top-down strategies that moved the needle of vaccination coverage across the world. Today’s more complex immunization challenges require problem-solving approaches that recognize that context is central. What you know, because you are there every day, side-by-side with families and communities that you serve, turns out to be more important than generalities.

    For example, the Foundation’s research has shown that reaching zero-dose or underimmunized children calls for local creativity to tailor and adapt strategies, rather than apply a cookie-cutter guideline. Should we be searching for generalizations that can be turned into norms and standards, when every zero-dose context is different? What if the opportunity were to hone in on the ‘how’ of local action, to better understand what makes the difference at the last mile of service delivery?

    Should we assume that it is local staff who need to develop their capacity and change, when behavior change is probably necessary for everyone, at all levels?

    Change is hard, but it is definitely happening. The last two editions of Teach to Reach have been in partnership with UNICEF and since 2022 with support from Wellcome. Ephrem T. Lemango and Kate O’Brien, who lead immunization at UNICEF and WHO respectively, prefaced the latest Teach to Reach report, writing: “Uniquely, the Geneva Learning Foundation’s platform and its Teach to Reach events provide a way to link such people together, so that they can share experiences about what works and equally important, what doesn’t work, while learning from each other. Learning happens best when people seek answers to their specific daily challenges. Teach to Reach is proof that immunization professionals are hungry to learn, and hungry to share.”

    Furthermore, they note that “it is humbling to hear how committed people are to sharing experiences in the hope that they will benefit someone else, how the inadequacies of internet connections fail to deter people participating, and how so many are using precious digital data to take part. The digital space allows everyone to participate, irrespective of national boundaries or positions in an immunization hierarchy.”

    Girija Sankar also reminds us that gatekeeping is not only for the leaders. It is also an opportunity for each of us to consider our roles and responsibilities. When deciding on invites, we should ask ourselves, “Is the limitation due to budget constraints or based on our perception of who has the most valuable input or the most funding to contribute?” It is also a call to action for those of us who have access to closed-door meetings or sit on advisory boards. We must pause and reflect on our roles and use our authority to pave the way for those who might not traditionally have a voice in these important discussions.

    So, while I, and many others, have to travel to face-to-face conferences to stay “in the loop”, it is essential to recognize the limitations of these gatherings and work towards more inclusive and efficient models. The need to shift our mindset is more pressing than ever in the field of global health. In our quest for a healthier world, let’s ensure that the gates of knowledge and decision-making are open to all. Let’s embrace models like Teach to Reach, breaking down barriers and creating an inclusive platform for dialogue, learning, and action.

    Imagine if the World Health Organization’s unspent mission travel budget in 2020 – around $400 million – had been invested in digital infrastructure to support continuous learning to explore and support new kinds of collaboration between different levels of the health system.

  • Metaphors of global health: jazz improvisation ensemble or classical orchestra?

    Metaphors of global health: jazz improvisation ensemble or classical orchestra?

    In the realm of classical music, the orchestra stands as a formidable emblem of aesthetic grandeur and refinement. However, beneath the veneer of sophistication lies a deeply entrenched system that stymies the potential for creative exploration and spontaneity. As in a straitjacket, the rigidity of this system threatens to reduce the rich tapestry of human experience into a sterile hierarchy, devoid of the serendipity that breathes life into artistic expression.

    The classical orchestra is governed by a hierarchy that places the conductor at the apex, wielding an almost tyrannical authority over the musicians. It is a system that perpetuates a culture of conformity, where musicians are coerced into subsuming their individuality in the service of an imposed order. This stifling environment leaves little room for the musicians to contribute their own interpretations or creative impulses, and instead demands that they adhere strictly to the conductor’s vision, which is often based on a prescriptive reading of the composer’s intent.

    The result is a musical experience that is reductive in nature, an experience that is stripped of the chaos and unpredictability that are essential to the vitality of artistic expression. In its quest for order, the classical orchestra neglects the potential for serendipity, which can arise from the unscripted interplay of individual talents and the embrace of the unexpected. By eschewing the possibility of chance encounters and emergent beauty, the orchestra constricts the wellspring of creative potential, relegating the musicians to mere cogs in a mechanistic apparatus.

    Furthermore, the insistence on a strict adherence to the conductor’s interpretation perpetuates an illusion of coherence and stability that belies the complexities of the human experience. The orchestral structure does not allow for the acknowledgement of discord and dissonance that are inherent in life. Rather, it seeks to impose a singular vision of order, relegating the multitudes of voices and perspectives to the margins of the performance.

    In the end, the classical orchestra emerges as an antiquated institution that, in its blind pursuit of order, risks smothering the creative spirit that animates the very essence of artistic expression. It is a system that demands submission and conformity at the expense of individuality and exploration. By refusing to acknowledge the serendipity and complexity that lie at the heart of human experience, the classical orchestra risks becoming a hollow shell, a lifeless relic of a bygone era that has yet to fully grasp the true potential of the human spirit.

    Is global health more like a classical orchestra or jazz improvisation?

    In a dimly lit club, a hazy smoke fills the air, while the soft murmur of conversation weaves its way through the room. Then, the jazz ensemble erupts in a mesmerizing explosion of sound – an intoxicating mix of chaos and order, each musician adding their own unique twist to the shared melody. As their improvisation unfolds, the music becomes a living, breathing entity, transcending the boundaries of the individual instruments.

    This vibrant expression of creativity and spontaneity form the improvisational spirit. Could embracing the fluidity and adaptability inherent in jazz as a metaphor help us rise to meet the myriad challenges that crop up in our quest to improve the health of people across the globe?

    The notion of orchestrating global health initiatives like a classical ensemble, with a conductor dictating every note and movement, might be appealing at first glance. But the diverse and interdependent nature of global health demands that we adopt a more inclusive approach that values flexibility, adaptability, and collaboration. Just as a jazz ensemble thrives on its ability to respond to the unexpected, global health initiatives must be nimble enough to adjust to the constantly shifting realities on the ground.

    It’s a world where the unexpected reigns supreme, where musicians effortlessly dance between moments of chaos and harmony. In this realm of improvisation, there’s a certain magic that takes hold – a power that transcends the limits of scripted notes and carefully crafted melodies.

    The power of improvisation lies in its ability to tap into the uncharted territories of human creativity. It’s a process that relies on a deep sense of trust and vulnerability between the musicians, who must be willing to venture into the unknown, guided by nothing more than their intuition and their shared connection to the music. As they navigate this uncertain terrain, the musicians become explorers of a musical landscape that is constantly shifting and evolving, and in doing so, they discover new possibilities and pathways that would have otherwise remained hidden.

    Improvisation also fosters a unique form of communication, one that transcends the boundaries of language and culture. In the midst of a jazz jam session, the musicians engage in a conversation that is at once wordless and profound, speaking to one another through the language of their instruments. As each musician adds their own voice to the collective melody, they create a tapestry of sound that tells a story – a story that is rich in emotion and nuance, and that speaks to the universal human experience.

    Moreover, improvisation has the power to challenge and transform our understanding of what is possible. By breaking free from the constraints of traditional structures and forms, improvisation invites us to question the status quo and to reimagine the world in new and exciting ways. It teaches us to embrace uncertainty and change, and to see the beauty in the unexpected. In this sense, improvisation serves as a potent reminder of the boundless potential that lies within each of us, waiting to be unleashed.

    As the haunting strains of a saxophone solo rise and fall, and the pulse of the bass line echoes through the dimly lit club, the power of improvisation is laid bare for all to see. It’s a force that defies categorization, and yet it holds within it the capacity to move and inspire, to challenge and transform. In the ever-changing world of jazz, the power of improvisation is the lifeblood that courses through the music, and it’s a force that, if harnessed, can open up new worlds of possibility and wonder.

    In this context, the jazz ensemble emerges as the more fitting metaphor. By incorporating the principles of complexity and change found within the jazz improvisation, we can more effectively navigate the challenges that come with addressing global health issues. It is through this adaptable and collaborative approach that we can truly accelerate progress and create lasting, meaningful change.

    So, as the last notes of the saxophone linger in the air and the final beats of the drums echo through the club, we’re reminded of the power and potential of improvisation. It’s a lesson that, if taken to heart, might help transform our efforts to improve global health and the lives of those we seek to help.

    Is global health more like a classical orchestra or a jazz improvisation ensemble? Which should it be in the future?

    Reference

    Jacobson, J., Brooks, A., 2022. Reflections on “Orchestrating for Impact”: Harmonizing across Stakeholders to Accelerate Global Health Gains. The American Journal of Tropical Medicine and Hygiene. https://doi.org/10.4269/ajtmh.21-1101

  • Credible knowers

    Credible knowers

    “Some individuals are acknowledged as credible knowers within global health, while the knowledge held by others may be given less credibility.” – (Himani Bhakuni and Seye Abimbola in The Lancet, 2021)

    “Immunization Agenda 2030” or “IA2030” is a strategy that was unanimously adopted at the World Health Assembly in 2020. The global community that funds and supports vaccination globally is now exploring what it needs to do differently to transform the Agenda’s goal of saving 50 million lives by the end of the decade into reality. Last year, over 10,000 national and sub-national health staff from 99 countries pledged to achieve this goal when they joined the Geneva Learning Foundation’s first IA2030 learning and action research programme. Discover what we learned in Year 1… Learn more about the Foundation’s platform and network… What is the Movement for Immunization Agenda 2030 (IA2030)?

    In global health, personal experience is assumed to be anecdotal, the lowest form of evidence. We are learning, as one of many organizations contributing to Immunization Agenda 2030 (IA2030), to reconsider this assumption.

    An ongoing ‘consultative engagement’ in which a group of global experts has been listening and learning with health professionals working in districts and facilities provides a practical example that changing how we know can lead to significant change in what we do – and what results and outcomes may come of it.

    On 12 December 2022, the Geneva Learning Foundation (TGLF) hosted a special event with the Immunization Agenda 2030 Working Group on Immunization for Primary Healthcare and Universal Health Coverage, which includes representatives from leading global agencies that support immunization efforts worldwide. 

    Over 4,000 people participated. Most were health workers from districts and health facilities in Asia, Africa, and Latin America. In the run-up to the event, they shared 139 context-specific experiences about their daily work – challenges, lessons learned, and successes – in integrating immunization as part of primary health care practices. The live event opened with such stories and then transitioned into a formal presentation of the framework. This helped everyone make sense of both the “why” and the “how” of the new framework.

    However, this was not the first time that the global group was in listening mode. In fact, the new framework was the capstone in a year-long ‘consultative engagement’ that had begun at Teach to Reach 4 on 10 December 2021, attended by 5,906 health professionals who deliver vaccines in districts and facilities. (Teach to Reach is the Foundation’s networking event series, during which participants meet to share experience and global experts listen and learn. You can view the sessions on primary health care here and here.)

    Global health organizations often issue new frameworks and guidance, sometimes accompanied by funding for capacity development. However, dissemination often relies upon conventional high-cost, low-volume approaches, such as face-to-face training or information transmission through digital channels, even though fairly definitive evidence suggests severe limitations to their effectiveness.

    To address these challenges, the Geneva Learning Foundation and its partners are launching the IA2030 Movement Knowledge to Action Hub, a platform for sharing local expertise and experience across geographical and health system level boundaries. The goal is to research and implement new ways to convert this knowledge into action, results and, ultimately, impact.

    The Double Loop, a monthly insights newsletter edited by Ian Steed and Charlotte Mbuh, is one component of this Hub. The newsletter asked questions to all 4,000 participants of the December 2022 event, 30 days and 90 days later, to gather feedback on the new framework.

    Here are the questions we asked three months on:

    1. Since you discovered the Framework for Action: Immunization for Primary Health Care, have you referred to this framework at least once? If you have not used it, can you tell us why? How could this Framework be improved to be more useful to you?
    2. If you have referred to this Framework, tell us what did you do with the information in the Framework? How did your colleagues respond to the Framework?
    3. How did this Framework make a difference in solving a real-world problem you are facing? How did things turn out? Explain what you are doing differently to integrate health services, empower people and communities, and lead multisectoral policy and action.

    Within days, we received hundreds of answers:

    • Some health professionals apologized, often citing field work, emergency response, and other pressing priorities. This can help better understand the strengths and weaknesses of learning culture (the capacity for change), which the Foundation’s Insights Unit has been researching in the field of immunization since 2020.  
    • Others praised the framework in generic terms (“It’s a great framework”), but did not share any specific examples of actual review, use, or application. Some speak to sometimes peculiar practices of accountability in immunization, where top-down hierarchies remain the norm and provide incentive to always provide positive accounts and responses, whatever the reality may be.
    • A few respondents candidly explained that the Framework does not fit their local needs, as it was primarily designed for national planners. This begs the question of how such local adaptation and tailoring might happen.
    • Finally, we discovered credible, specific narratives of actual use, including adaptation at the local levels. These provide fascinating examples of how a global guidance, developed through a year-long consultative engagement, is actually being translated into practice.

    Our Insights Unit is analyzing these narratives, as this exercise is helping us learn how to scale the IA2030 Movement Knowledge to Action Hub to involve the more than 10,000 health professionals who joined the Movement in its first year.

    The Double Loop regularly shares feedback from its readers as “insights on sights”. You can already read a sample of responses about the framework.

    On 31 March 2023, our team will meet with the IA2030 Working Group to share and discuss the insights gathered through this process.

    The Working Group has also changed through this process. In January 2023, it invited its first sub-national member, Dr. María Monzón from Argentina, who brings her own professional experience and expertise from running a primary health care center. She will also serve as the voice of over 10,000 Movement Leaders, immunization staff from 99 countries and all levels of the health system, who met and have been intensively collaborating for over a year in the Foundation’s IA2030 programme. 

    Surprisingly, one global immunization technical expert shared his concern that thousands of professionals learning from each other to strengthen their resolve and action might amount to “just a bunch of hot air”. This will only be the case if the global immunization community fails to respond and support, even as it proclaims a genuine willingness to recognize local voices as credible knowers. In another blog post, I’ll share some thoughts on what it might take to rise together.

  • Defunking Grunter

    Defunking Grunter

    Part 1: The Journey Begins

    Suspended in the swirling galaxies beyond our own, the celestial stage of the Cat’s Eye Nebula shimmered. The nebula was a kaleidoscope of iridescent gases, dazzling cosmic dust, and radiant energy, an ideal sanctuary for the Astral Scholars. Their gathering place, the Obsidian Forum, was a levitating, jet-black platform, as if carved from a fragment of the universe itself. It was etched with constellations, celestial bodies, and navigational lines of ancient wormholes–an atlas of the universe under their feet.

    The youngest among them, Saci, was a fledgling star, her eyes twinkling with raw curiosity and a deep yearning for acceptance. A cloud of unresolved excitement perpetually surrounded her, compelling yet subtle, a characteristic trait of many passionate seekers before her.

    One day, during a session of interstellar navigation training, her enthusiasm came to the fore. Saci hurriedly approached the Grand Orrery, a celestial model showcasing real-time cosmic patterns and wormhole trajectories.

    “Look, Sumé,” she called, her finger tracing the holographic routes swirling around the Orrery. “The quantum oscillations of the Thule wormhole – they’re anomalous, aren’t they? Do you think they might cause instability?”

    Sumé, a gentle smile on his face, looked at the eager apprentice. “Saci,” he said, his voice as calm as a placid cosmic sea, “those oscillations are part of the natural rhythm of this Nebula. What makes you interpret them as signs of instability?”

    She looked back at him, her eyes sparkling with conviction. “Because, aren’t these patterns identical to the Arcturian Singularity that collapsed last millennium? I’ve read about it in the chronicles.”

    Sumé chuckled softly, “Your diligence is commendable, Saci. But remember, not every rhythm plays the same tune. Sometimes, young star, the cosmos dances just for the sake of it.”

    As Sumé’s words trailed off, the other Astral Scholars watched from the corners, a twinkle of amusement and anticipation in their eyes. This was just the beginning of a long and winding journey.

    Little did they know, it would prove transformative for them all.

    Part 2: Cosmic symphony

    In the grand theater of the cosmos, the Obsidian Forum remained a tranquil sanctuary nestled in the heart of the Cat’s Eye Nebula. The Astral Scholars, guardians of cosmic wisdom, convened here, each bringing their unique light to the stellar discourse. Amidst them, Saci, a fledgling star, was on a path of self-transformation.

    It was Sumé, Saci’s mentor, who first perceived the subtle shift in the cosmic tide. Sumé, the guiding luminary appreciated for his wisdom and empathy, felt the ripples between Saci and the Astral Scholars. Sensing the need for a gentle intervention, he decided to foster a bridge of understanding between them.

    Beneath the timeless gaze of the cosmos, Sumé approached Saci, his voice as soothing as a cosmic lullaby. “Saci,” he began, his words imbued with an age-old wisdom, “A journey towards knowledge often walks hand in hand with humility. It’s about engaging in a dance of giving and receiving, a cycle as old as the cosmos itself.”

    Saci listened, her fiery spirit quieted by the softness of Sumé’s words. Part of her perceived his counsel as a reflection on her demeanor. The protective shell of her self-awareness hardened, a comet fortifying itself against the cosmic wind.

    “I appreciate your guidance, Sumé,” Saci responded, her voice vibrating with a controlled energy. “But do I really need to dismiss my very own thoughts? After all, isn’t the cosmos itself a cacophony of countless stars, each shining in its unique way?”

    The celestial silence that followed was palpable, a quiet pause before the eruption of a supernova. Sumé regarded Saci, her resolute spirit flickering like the pulsating rhythm of a quasar.

    “Indeed, Saci,” Sumé replied gently, his gaze unblinking. “The cosmos is a symphony, each star adding its own note. But remember, the harmony is born from listening as much as from contributing. Only then does the cosmic dance truly take shape.”

    His words echoed in the Obsidian Forum, a quiet place that embodied understanding and unity. Yet, Saci remained cocooned in her protective shell, her fledgling light dancing between self-doubt and self-affirmation. This spirited exchange between Sumé and Saci marked a key turning point, revealing a complex tapestry of cosmic interplay. It was an age-old dance of wisdom and perception, a dance that had only just begun.

    Part 3: The Dance of Realization

    In the expansive theater of the cosmos, the Obsidian Forum was alight with anticipation. The Astral Scholars convened once more, their collective wisdom creating a celestial symphony. At the heart of this cosmic orchestra, Saci stood, her spirit dancing on the precipice of understanding.

    A cosmic day dawned when Saci once again took the floor. Her voice, now more tempered but still vibrant, filled the forum, “I’ve been thinking, revisiting my understanding of TGLF and Movement. Perhaps I’ve been viewing them through a narrow cosmic lens, my own.”

    Sumé observed her, a quiet sense of anticipation glinting in his eyes. “That’s a brave admission, Saci,” he commented, his voice as serene as the cosmic sea, “It’s only through recognizing our constraints that we learn to perceive the boundless.”

    This time, Saci didn’t bristle at the mentor’s words. Instead, she took a moment, absorbing his wisdom. There was no sharp retort, no defiant glare. Just a simple nod, signifying her acceptance and understanding.

    The days passed like comets streaking across the cosmic sky, each bringing with it a new opportunity for Saci to learn and grow. She began to approach the Astral Scholars, engaging them in thoughtful conversations, exchanging ideas and exploring possibilities. The once ruffled cosmic energy was now smoothing into a harmonious flow.

    “I’ve come to understand that the cosmic dance isn’t merely about contributing one’s rhythm but adapting to the music already playing,” Saci said one day, her voice echoing the newfound realization.

    Sumé smiled, his eyes reflecting the pulsating lights of the Nebula. “And that, Saci, is the beauty of our cosmic symphony. It’s about playing our notes while also tuning in to the melody of the universe.”

    Saci’s journey was far from complete, but she was learning. She was learning to question her understanding, to seek wisdom, and to adapt. Her fiery spirit had not dimmed; instead, it was glowing with a newfound brilliance, illuminating her path towards becoming a true Astral Scholar.

    As the cosmic twilight descended, Sumé watched Saci. Her transformation was reminiscent of a celestial event, where a collapsing star forms a beautiful Nebula. It was a challenging process, as boundless as the galaxies themselves, but the outcome was worth the struggle.

    Sumé knew that Saci’s journey was just beginning. There were galaxies of knowledge to explore, infinite cosmic mysteries to unravel. But for now, he was content. For now, Saci was dancing with the cosmos, and the cosmos was dancing back.

    With her enthusiasm mildly tempered but not extinguished, Saci ventured further into the Astral Scholar’s realm of knowledge. She found herself engrossed in the study of the Trans-Galactic Light Flux (TGLF), a phenomenon as mesmerizing as it was complex. Her observations led her to draw parallels between it and Movement, an elevated state of consciousness understood and practiced by the Astral Scholars.

    One evening, as the cosmic choir of distant stars filled the Obsidian Forum, she approached Sumé. “I believe I’ve found something significant, Sumé,” she said, a gleam of excitement in her eyes.

    Sumé turned to her, his face illuminated by the myriad colors of the Cat’s Eye Nebula. “Go on, Saci. What discovery awaits us tonight?”

    “I’ve been studying TGLF,” she started, her hands involuntarily weaving through the air as if molding her thoughts into tangible forms. “And I think… I think it’s a form of energy transport, you know? And there’s a parallel with Movement, an exchange of energy at a higher level of consciousness. They’re intertwined.”

    There was a pregnant pause as Sumé absorbed her words. Then he replied, “An interesting perspective, Saci. Your innovative thinking keeps us on our toes. But remember, TGLF and Movement, though they might seem related, function on different planes. One is the heartbeat of the cosmos, while the other is the song of our souls.”

    Later, Saci presented her ideas to the conclave. Her voice was firm, her gaze unwavering. She spoke with conviction, her words leaving ripples in the energy matrix of the Forum. Some Astral Scholars responded with applause, others with probing questions, and a few with skeptical silence.

    As Saci navigated the nuances of cosmic academia, she began feeling the weight of differences in her viewpoints. She noticed her perspectives sometimes overlooked the tradition of ‘stellar contribution’, a fundamental part of the Astral Scholar’s social contract. It was like missing a star from a constellation, leading to incomplete celestial narratives.

    “Saci,” Sumé began in a gentle tone, after one heated debate had dissolved into cosmic silence, “Your theories are like comets, bright and fascinating. But remember, each celestial body, each star and planet, contributes to the cosmic dance. This, too, is a part of our learning, our growth.”

    Listening to Sumé’s words, Saci felt a twinge of isolation but also a spark of curiosity. The day’s lesson had been a tumultuous ride through cosmic wisdom, but she realized that her journey was only just beginning. The Astral Scholars watched her retreating figure, their eyes gleaming with unspoken thoughts. The journey was far from over, and there was still much to learn for everyone.

    Throughout the cosmic days and celestial nights, Saci dove deeper into the intricacies of the cosmos. She brought forth radical theories and challenged age-old interpretations, her voice echoing throughout the Obsidian Forum. Her bright mind shone like a supernova, illuminating previously uncharted corners of cosmic understanding.

    Yet, it was not without consequence. Her relentless drive to validate her theories sometimes made her miss out on the gentle wisdom carried by the cosmic winds. Her interactions started drifting towards a series of inquiries and statements that leaned more towards validation rather than mutual understanding.

    One such day, during a meeting under the veil of a cosmic aurora, Saci brought forth a new framework about the behavior of Quantum Strings. “Isn’t it plausible,” she argued passionately, “that the Quantum Strings in the Sumé Belt oscillate at a higher frequency due to the influence of TGLF?”

    The Forum fell silent, each Scholar processing her theory. After a moment, Cygnus, the oldest among them, replied, “Saci, your enthusiasm is a beacon of hope for all of us. Your thirst for knowledge, undeniable. But have you considered the universal harmony in your hypothesis, the subtle rhythm of the cosmos? And the ‘stellar contribution’ that each celestial body brings to this cosmic ballet?”

    Saci met his gaze, her heart pounding with the intensity of a pulsar. “I… I have,” she said, “but the strings’ behavior is so compelling, it’s hard to ignore.”

    Cygnus responded with a soft smile, “Indeed, it is. Yet, the cosmos is a grand orchestra, my dear. Not a single note out of place, not a single beat without purpose.”

    That night, as the cosmic choir hushed and the Obsidian Forum basked under the soft glow of the Cat’s Eye Nebula, Saci found herself wrestling with a whirlwind of thoughts. Her conviction wavered, her theories began to seem flawed. Yet, she was adamant about standing her ground. The Astral Scholars watched her from the corner of their eyes, seeing a reflection of their own past in her passionate defiance. They realized that their newest member was beginning a transformative journey that was as much hers as it was theirs. It was only the beginning.

    Beneath the brilliant display of the Cat’s Eye Nebula, Saci’s fervor continued to permeate the Obsidian Forum. She was a force, a cosmic storm that stirred the otherwise tranquil conclave. She was bold and innovative, pushing boundaries and invoking intense debates. Yet, underneath her confident exterior, the Astral Scholars observed subtle signs of a silent battle.

    One cosmic twilight, Sumé found Saci gazing at the holographic star maps, her face bathed in a soft celestial glow. “Saci, your presence reminds me of a fledgling supernova, ready to explode and scatter your elements across the cosmos,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

    Saci turned towards Sumé, her mentor and her guiding star. “And what if the cosmos rejects my elements, Sumé?” she asked, her voice shaking, revealing a side she had often masked with her indomitable spirit.

    Sumé took a moment to answer, his gaze soft. “The cosmos doesn’t reject, Saci. It transforms. Your elements, your ideas, they add to the cosmic soup. They cause reactions, start a chain of events that lead to new creations. This is the essence of ‘stellar contribution.’ Embrace the differences, the debates, and the questions.”

    As Saci absorbed Sumé’s words, a realization dawned upon her. Her perception of acceptance had been rooted in agreement, while the cosmos and the Astral Scholars thrived on divergence, debates, and transformation.

    While her confidence seemed unscathed, the Astral Scholars couldn’t miss the shadow of self-doubt that had subtly started to creep in. Sumé, the gentle mentor, understood this was a crucial turning point in Saci’s journey. He knew she was ready to embark on an introspective journey to revisit her beliefs, question her understanding, and transform her approach. As Sumé and the Astral Scholars looked on, Saci stood at the precipice of a great learning curve. This was her initiation into a deeper understanding of cosmic knowledge, a step towards becoming a true Astral Scholar.

    And so, under the incandescent gaze of the Cat’s Eye Nebula, the first chapter of Saci’s journey among the Astral Scholars came to a close. It was a chapter of discovery, of challenging conventions, and of understanding the intricate dance of cosmic forces. But, most importantly, it was about the recognition of her own growth areas and the willingness to address them.

    As the cosmic twilight gave way to the shimmering space-time fabric, the Obsidian Forum began to shimmer with the echoes of Saci’s thoughts. Her realization about her journey sparked a metamorphosis in her approach, a change as significant as the birth of a star.

    Sumé and the Astral Scholars watched Saci’s retreating figure against the cosmic backdrop. They saw the uncertainty in her eyes, the self-doubt that threatened to overshadow her bright spirit. But they also saw a glimmer of hope, the promise of a new dawn, the beginning of a deeper understanding.

    Yes, Saci had made mistakes. Yes, her ideas had stirred the cosmic pot. And yes, she had a long path ahead of her, a path fraught with learning and challenges. But she was just at the beginning of this path, and every path has its own wisdom to offer.

    And so, as the Nebula watched silently, Saci left the Obsidian Forum, her mind full of thoughts, her heart filled with resolve. The first chapter of her journey had come to a close, but the story was far from over. In the grand cosmic dance, Saci was still finding her steps, still learning the rhythm, and the Astral Scholars were right beside her, guiding, watching, and learning alongside.

  • How do we shift our capacity to embrace a volatile, complex world?

    How do we shift our capacity to embrace a volatile, complex world?

    This week, the Geneva Learning Foundation (TGLF) is Devex’s “Presenting Partner”. We are proud to be sharing with Devex’s 170,000 NewsWire subscribers the remarkable progress and the results, outcomes, and impact we have achieved since the pandemic hit. Discover how we connect people, organizations, and communities to achieve collective impact better and faster… Get in touch…

    • We stand ready to support any organization or network that needs to mobilize people at scale in support of meaningful change.
    • We are seeking partners that share our yearning for transformation, and that can bring their challenges, resources, and capabilities to make this yearning a reality.
    • We are actively fundraising to develop our global platform so we can support more partners tackling ‘wicked’ problems.

    The need for change is evident.

    Is your organization rethinking how it contributes to achieving global goals?

    • Humanitarian INGOs headquartered in Geneva, London, or Washington are striving to “localize aid”.
    • A growing concert of voices is calling for the decolonization of global health.
    • Some donors are trying to listen to feedback from communities, not just metrics.

    How do we shift our capacity to embrace a volatile, complex world?

    The Geneva Learning Foundation (TGLF) has developed a unique approach, grounded in learning science and a decade of research and practice, to nurture digital networks. Read Reda Sadki’s blog post: How we used this approach to support over 40,000 immunization staff facing the COVID-19 pandemic…

    We build collective capacity for transformation. Download a snapshot of our immunization programme…

    We do this in ways that motivate participants to connect and implement thousands of their own locally-designed projects, leading to measurable, lasting impact.

    The COVID-19 pandemic has created an opportunity for a digital-first Renaissance.

    The next 20 years of working for change are likely to be about harnessing digital transformation through hybrid networks fusing digital and physical.

    Learning how to develop people is a vital investment for the promise of digital to be realized. Read more about the digital-first Renaissance…

    I hope that you will take the time to learn more about our work to determine if what we do might fit what you need.

    To learn more about the Geneva Learning Foundation (TGLF), download our brochure, listen to our podcast, view our latest livestreams, subscribe to our insights, and follow us on Instagram, LinkedIn, Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube. Or introduce yourself to our Partnerships team.

  • What lies beyond the event horizon of the ‘webinar’?

    What lies beyond the event horizon of the ‘webinar’?

    It is very hard to convey to learners and newcomers to digital learning alike that asynchronous modes of learning are proven to be far more effective. There is an immediacy to a sage-on-the-stage lecture – whether it is plodding or enthralling – or to being connected simultaneously with others to do group work.

    Asynchronous goes against the way our brains work, driven by prompts, events, and immediacy. But people get the benefit of “time-shifting” their TV shows and “on demand” is the norm for media consumption now.

    Most webinars still require you to show up at a specific time. With live streaming of the Foundation’s events, we are observing growing appreciation for asynchronous “I’ll watch it when I want to” availability of recorded events. The behavior seems different from the intention of viewing a recorded webinar, which almost never happens. (This is, in part, the motivation question: does anyone watch recordings of webinars without being forced to?)

    It is wonderful that the big video platforms immediately make the recording available, at the same URL, after a livestreamed event. Right now, this is better than Zoom, which does not (yet) offer a simple, automated way to share the recording with everyone who missed a live session, nor a mechanism for post-event viewers to contribute comments or questions.

    Image: Time travel (Wikipedia Commons).

  • The significance of digital platforms to the business

    The significance of digital platforms to the business

    Business gets done by groups in workshops and meetings and by individuals in private conversation. There is an undeniable cultural advantage for diplomacy that comes from looking your interlocutor in the eye.

    Emerging digital platforms are in the margins of this business.

    The pioneers are creaky in their infrastructure and, ironically, playing catch-up. They have long lost the initial burst of enthusiasm that led to their creation. Yet they are still here, alive and kicking with funding that can support, in principle, their reinvention. For this, they need courage and creativity, especially if they function in a bureaucratic environment.

    Then there are new platforms in search of purpose and the users it would bring. Sometimes, it is the other way around.

    No platform is perfect. All of them have strengths, experience, insights, and the potential to be more in the future than what they are now. Some have already achieved individual impact and continue to do so.

    There is no doubt in my mind that, sooner than we think, our platforms – or the ones that will replace them – will be core to achieving the strategy being defined now for the coming decade.

    Digital transformation has swallowed enough industries that we now understand how it works.

    If you think about the newspaper industry, their web sites started in the margins too.

    Digital technologies provide a new economy of effort. In our context, we now have the means to address professionals working in the very communities where targets are either achieved or not. In fact, two-thirds of the Geneva Learning Foundation’s cohorts do not work in the capital city but in the regions and districts.

    Bypassing established gatekeepers and pyramidal hierarchies to go “straight to the customer” undeniably brings new challenges.

    What is the incentive for collaboration between digital platforms? We are all competing for the same resources, jostling for recognition, striving to demonstrate that we are contributing to the business.

    There are practical, operational reasons to share content, ideas, lessons learned. This can help each platform improve, for the benefit of the network that we all want to serve. Such service improvement is necessary and important.

    We can imagine a collective effort in which platforms rally around a shared goal and establish a shared measurement system to track progress.

    Yet, this too would be short-sighted.

    Yes, through a process of accretion, digital platforms will move from margin to center. They will not only be relevant to the business, they will be the business.

    The opportunity is for us to harness this process and accelerate the transformation so that it serves the strategic goals that are being defined today.

    To seize this opportunity, we need to start with the reality check:

    • Access is no longer the problem. (There is still a border beyond which there are no cell phone towers, but this border keeps receding.)
    • Digital literacy is the problem.

    Many learners in these platforms are discovering key online resources, available for years on the open web. A small but significant proportion may be part of the next billion of Internet users, joining to learn, not to surf.

    For this, we need a “no wrong door policy”. Wherever people enter the system, they need to find the pipes or pathways that will connect them to the destination that will help them solve the problem they are tackling. This is not about finding content, but the process of discovery that comes from connecting with others.

    The quality of the pipes will determine how quickly platforms become core business, rather than a nice-to-have.

    Image: Diving platform on Graveyard Hill in Kabul from TV-Hill, Afghanistan. Photo by Sven Dirks, Wien.

  • From ivory tower to walled garden

    From ivory tower to walled garden

    Question: “So what learning platform do you use?”

    Answer: “The Internet.”

    I first remember hearing the phrase “Everyone hates their LMS” from a defrocked priest of higher education.

    That made so much sense. At the time, I was wrestling with a stupid, clunky corporate learning management system designed for the most paranoid kind of HR department, touting its 10,000 features, none of which could do what we actually needed. Moodle seemed equally clunky, its pedagogical aspirations lost in the labyrinth of open source development.

    The first breakthrough happened when, inspired by connectivist MOOCs, I figured out we could run an open learning journey without an LMS, using nothing more than a blog and a Twitter account. (That defrocked priest dubbed it “FrankenMOOC”, but he was also trying to sell me on using his preferred LMS.) There was something profoundly liberating about working outside the confines of a platform. However, the connectivist ideal proved to be a different kind of labyrinth, with only a chosen few who enjoyed wandering around or getting lost in it.

    Digital market share is often measured by the size of your walled garden. By that measure, Facebook rules them all. In education, Moodle must certainly have the largest, albeit balkanized, walled garden.

    This is not about the merit or demerit of an LMS or a learning theory. You are missing the point. And my vantage point sits outside of higher education.

    Google’s ubiquitous search provides an interesting exception. By default, its “garden” is the entire Internet. This is how I understand the failure of Google+ as a missed opportunity. Why build a wall when search results could have gone social? (There are smatterings of this in search, for example when results show you reviews or enable you to connect with your search results.)

    There is no parallel to this in higher education, where the market is driven by aggregators who partner with universities to leverage, as Burck Smith summarizes it, the “‘iron triangle’ of input-focused accreditation, taxpayer subsidies tied to accreditation, and subjective course articulation”.

    It is a fundamental mistake to start building a digital learning system with the choice of platform, for at least two reasons.

    First, there is no one platform that will do the job. This is especially true if you are interested in doing more than offering “high-quality learning” and competencies but want to fully leverage the potential of the digital transformation to drive change to tackle complex, global problems. The “course” is the commencement, not the end point. Implementation and impact are no longer the horizon. They are the rational goal that justifies investment in professional education.

    Second, focusing on the platform inevitably devolves a learning initiative into a technology project. This is what happened to Moodle. It is akin to e-learning development in which media production metastizes into costly bells-and-whistles.

    I know of only one platform that is the pure implementation of a strong pedagogical model. Unfortunately, despite the relevance of its pedagogical model for our future, its technology framework was also built on assumptions of the past, and it is just as proprietary as otherwise inferior commercial platforms.

    What few saw coming was the digital transformation that, ironically, has made learning technologists and their learning platforms obsolete.

    As technology embedded into the fabric of our cultures, it makes increasingly little sense to refer to a learning initiative as “digital” or “online”. It is just learning. The platforms used to support it should be either those that are already embedded in daily work or whatever the best available product happens to be at the moment, except where specific processes can be automated or facilitated by a specialized tool.

    So, what about assessment, credentialing and record-keeping?

    The first two benefit from being uncoupled from the process that supports knowledge acquisition and capability development. Sure, we can build separate assessment and credentialing based on direct observation and other forms of testing. This is where subject matter experts can be useful. However, dedicating resources to assessment in an artificial environment may not be nearly as good as figuring out how to do assessment in situ, in line with a philosophy of education that is about fostering leadership and innovation to drive change. Getting results and achieving impact should be the new credential of value.

    Why are badges and other forms of micro-credentialing going nowhere fast? First, cracking the armor of accreditation is difficult given the capacity of higher education to resist change. Second, credentialing skills, knowledge, and competencies is no longer the signal that carries value.

    The last one is a data problem. Build a modern database. Figure out how to get the data you need in and out. You do not need a learning management system to do that.

    Image: Walled garden. Personal collection.

  • Why gamification is a disaster for humanitarian learning

    Why gamification is a disaster for humanitarian learning

    Is gamification an advantageous strategy that can help increase knowledge and application when it comes to humanitarian responses? What are these advantages? Can gamification contribute to better humanitarian preparedness?

    Certainly, if you have been forced to maniacally click through 500 screens of a boring “e-learning” from the past – dressed up with multicolored bells and whistles or cute little Flash animation – to finally get to the stupid quiz that is insulting your intelligence by asking you to recall what you will have forgotten tomorrow but that you need to pass to earn your stupid gold certificate before your field deployment, “gamification” sounds enticing. After all, you figured out how to game that e-learning module… so maybe games are the key to the future of humanitarian learning? Not.

    Is gamification one of the “current innovations in the field of learning”? Well, arguably, this may have been the case… over a decade ago. And it has long since been debunked. Can gamification help tackle some of the challenges we face in humanitarian learning? These challenges include scale (we need a lot more people ready to face disasters and volunteering to strengthen their communities’ resilience), reach (all the way to the last mile to people on the receiving end of aid), strategic relevance, and using new learning methodologies that model how humanitarians work together with and within communities, solve problems, and grow as leaders.

    Is there potential in using game elements for increased engagement and effective training of humanitarian staff? Often, “gamification devolves to just creating competitive experiences based on some sort of point-scoring model that is at-best glorified industrial psychology and not necessarily a great, giant outcome of innovation or game design,” explains Ben Sawyer, the founder of Games for Health. (Ben convinced me five years ago that serious games not gamification are a viable approach for some needs – just an incredibly complex, costly one.)

    My twelve-year-old son is a gamer. I observe and ocasionally participate. The immersive qualities of recent games are amazing, and the way they work your psychology is mind-blowing. Game studios understand the intricacies of human behavior and motivation at least as well as casinos do. So, yeah, imagine if we could put that power to use for the good of humanity…

    There are three obvious problems.

    The first problem is that building quality learning experienced as a game is very expensive. Creating a fully-cognitive experience with a more encompassing model of engagement and interaction starts at 50 million U.S. dollars (Final Fantasy XII) and there is no upper limit (200 million for Star Wars: The Old Republic).

    What could you do with the shoestring budgets available for learning and capacity building in the humanitarian sector? At best, try to short circuit the experience and use just a few elements in hopes that creating a ‘game’ or an experience that instills some of the core ideas of what a game is by definition will generate a bump in engagement. And that, my friends, is a recipe for failure in so many ways, but above all because it is disconnected from humanitarian learning needs.

    That, in fact, is the second problem. “For all staff, the abilities to learn, to reflect, to negotiate, to critically examine and analyse what they are seeing and hearing, are crucial,” wrote Connell Foley in 2008. Creating a game that is about more than stimulus-response is difficult (requiring talent that does not exist in our sector), costly, and therefore unlikely. As a learning approach, it is not the one you choose if you want to support the development of analytical capabilities or critical thinking.

    Increasingly, humanitarians, like other knowledge workers (cf. Robert Kelly’s longitudinal study), can only get things done through collaboration, because the knowledge they need is no longer stored in their brains. This is not the “Social Age” (another dead end I have previously debunked) but part and parcel of the Second Machine Age. Many video games are self-contained worlds, closed systems that fail to model the very complexities that matter the most in the messy real world that we live in – and that can make the difference between life and death when you are working on the edge of chaos.

    Robert Kelly: % knowledge stored in your brain needed to do your job from 1986 to 2006
    Robert Kelly: % knowledge stored in your brain needed to do your job from 1986 to 2006

    The third problem is that the diverse culture of video games contains a dominant strand that is just awful – full of racism, sexism, and violence that is deeply ingrained. The hottest video game right now is called Battlegrounds. It is a Battle Royale where the ultimate purpose is to kill the other 99 players and be the sole survivor whose reward as a “Winner Winner” is to earn a “Chicken Dinner”. Is this really a culture that can be reshaped to serve humanitarian needs, where a lone individual may be trying to save 99 others?

    We undoubtedly need new ways of learning and thinking for humanitarians. This has to include both core abilities and value skills. Gamification cannot deliver either of these, and forces us to work from a culture in which the dominant values are difficult to stomach.

     

    New ways of learning and thinking
    New ways of learning and thinking

    Gamification is about behaviorist rewards for selfishness, where you earn points for killing others. It is often innately, to the core, about competition – and contortions to make friendly, peaceful, collaborative forms of gamification are lipstick on the ugly pig of behaviorism that hides beneath the supposedly “innovative” character of gamification.

    Behaviorism is a widely-discredited learning theory. It might be relevant for humanitarian workers only if the nature of the work was “do this-do that.” It is not. Problem-solving, navigating the unknown, strengthening the connections between us, developing contextual knowledge that we can use… gamification cannot do any of that. And that happens to be precisely what we need the most.

    This brings us right back to the boring e-learning of the past. Clicking through screens and taking a quiz also contains behaviorist assumptions. And, in fact, some of gamification’s strongest advocates in the humanitarian space spent years building boring, one-dimensional, and ultimately ineffective media-heavy content before becoming enthralled with gamification.

    The fascination with the video games industry is easy to understand. This industry is already bigger than Hollywood and growing much faster. The potential of virtual (VR) and augmented (AR) reality, artificial intelligence, and other emerging technologies show that this it just the beginning. But “gamification” is precisely not what will help us harness this potential to support humanitarian work.

    The fetichization of gamification in learning is akin to that for “story-telling” in communication. Yes, humans play games and tell stories. That both are part of our experience and cultures poses a challenge for learning leaders, certainly. But gamification zealots seem to see every problem through their single, reductive lens – and what was originally an innovative idea full of potential becomes one more rote, knee-jerk response set of blinders.

    We need to say “game over” to gamification and commit resources to approaches that foster new learning and leadership to support humanitarian work – not sink precious resources into what was once a fad in the corporate learning space, more than a decade ago.

    Featured image: Sinistar Wallpaper – Beware — I Live! (Retroist.com)