What has my elite education taught me? Time for a rethink

I am extremely privileged with my education. As a child, I went to the best private and public schools. As a university student, I attended some of the best elite universities. I have learned from some of the best teachers and professors, and have seen most of my peers succeed in their careers – as specialised doctors, lawyers, bankers, CEOs, parliamentarians, ministers.

As a child and student, I never compared myself to or even considered the 258 million children who don’t and can’t attend school. I didn’t know or think about the 70 percent of 10-year olds in low-and-middle income countries who cannot read a simple sentence. It was not my job to think about the 6 percent of German children, or over 13 percent of children with a migrant background who drop out of school. I was taught to reach sky-high, and to compete for the top – not to consider those who were being left behind.

Last year, I wrote a memoir triggered by the rallying cry I kept hearing during my school and university years: “you, the future leaders.” Over twenty years of my career, I kept being torn between this ambition, and how it didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of my life and core values. The more time I spent in elite leadership bubbles, the greater the discrepancy I saw to what was happening in the world outside of this bubble.

Over the past decades, inequality has risen and continues to rise. Climate change and conflict have become more frequent. I felt like it wasn’t just something happening in the world around me: I increasingly started to feel like I – and my elite bubble – was part of the problem.

Educated to think – or just thrive?

I have throughout my education been told that I am being taught critical thinking. I have been taught to unpack and question issues, and suggest creative solutions. But the more I look back at what I was taught, the more I realise that I was being taught to operate successfully within an exploitative system.

To make it to the top, I would have to elbow my way through – and to ensure others were left behind. Most importantly, I would network with my peers – from my elite schools and universities, and later on with these same peers working in elite institutions.

Once I began questioning what we were really doing in some of our workplaces, I learned that we are allowed to question and think about issues – but we are not allowed to question the entire establishment.

We have been educated to think, as long as we (we, the select) can thrive.

Educated to serve…my peers?

Over the past decade, “leadership” terminology has increasingly been replaced by “serving” and “service” terminology. Leaders earning six-or-seven-figures no longer “lead”, they “serve”. Managers no longer “work” in organisations, they “serve” missions.

Initially, I found this language appealing. Finally, leaders were shifting their goal from being at the top, to focusing on others – including those left behind and at the bottom. Until I realised that most often, nothing has changed.

CEOs, Presidents, or Executive Directors (nearly always male) were in practice still serving primarily themselves with the next leadership or board roles, or roles provided in return to their peers. And the more I tried to “serve” what I believed was an important mission (e.g. to meaningfully engage civil society or open discussions to those also outside of whatever elite institution I was working at), the more I learned that we were conducting meaningless box-ticking exercises and doing a lot of lip-service (and engaging in nice photo-ops).

The reality is that we continue to serve a few select peers, and in return expect to be served when we need some elite backing in turn.

Doing good while doing well?

Having worked for and with many foundations throughout my career, I have for twenty years followed the debate about trickle-down-wealth, and doing well first to be able to do good (later). Many of the schools and universities I attended, and scholarships I received, were funded this way – through the wealth of dynasties and billionaires, ranging from mining to tech.

I’ve done really well in my career. I’ve worked a lot (often far too much), but the honest reality is that I am where I am today – with my salary and wealth – because I’m part of this elite bubble.

I’ve done well, yet I still every day wonder whether I really have done any good – to anyone else other than myself, my peers, and the elitist industry I operate in.

Rethinking the status quo

I continue to tell my own children that health and education are two things we will never save on. They are the best investments we can make.

But looking at who thrives, and who remains exploited and left behind – in ever greater numbers, is this the legacy I want to leave behind and the example I want to set for my children?

Network, but only with the right powerful people who will be your peers?

Think critically, but only if it does not disrupt the status quo and does not threaten my and your future wealth?

Learn, but only so that you can thrive, by exploiting and leaving others behind?

Serve, as long as you continue to maximise your own gains?

You, the future leaders – exploiting most people and the planet, but at least thriving in your elite bubble?

What Covid19 has taught us about how development and global cooperation currently work (or don’t work)

Is the world prepared to tackle global crises? The simple answer is: NO! This blog looks at who pays the price for this failure, and how our development and global cooperation model must change.

End of Covid19? Not for most people…

Despite many media headlines reporting “the end of Covid19”, Covid19 is here to stay. It will, however, mainly continue to wreak havoc and cause thousands of deaths in poorer countries, which do not have access to Covid19 vaccines (see Table 1 below).

For rich countries, the tidal wave of Covid19 has washed over in two or three “waves”, which with vaccines will soon recede into history as “the 2020/21 Covid crisis”.

For poorer countries – just as with HIV/AIDS, or measles – Covid19 waves and deaths will continue – according to some estimates for at least another 57 years.

Table 1: Share of people who have received at least one dose of Covid vaccine

Covid19 has again shown that our current development and global cooperation model are not set up to tackle global crises and inequalities. Instead, inequalities have increased.

For example, less than 1 percent of vaccines have gone to low- and middle-income countries, resulting in what has been called “vaccine apartheid“.

Income inequalities have also increased, with vaccination profits resulting in nine new vaccine billionaires.

The mismatch in available funds and funds used to try to end the global pandemic are striking: The global healthcare market is estimated to be at USD 12 trillion p.a. The Covid19 response by countries has cost over USD 11 trillion. But only USD 18 billion out of 38 billion (as of 28 May) has been raised for global vaccines, diagnostics and treatment.

Covid19 vs climate change

Looking at climate change, the situation looks strikingly similar to Covid19.

Climate change primarily impacts poor countries, which have less funds to invest in (still costly) alternative energy, or mitigate the impact (e.g. clean air filters, flood damns).

This inequality can also be seen in economic terms (see Table 2 below). By the year 2100, many countries in the Southern hemisphere will see losses of up to 100% in GDP, compared to countries in the North that will see gains of up to 200%.

Table 2: Economic impact of climate change

With global warming and glacier melting accelerating at a faster pace than expected, these inequalities will also grow wider, faster.

Unlike Covid19, the climate change waves impacting primarily poor countries will eventually result in a global tidal wave that will threaten our planet and entire existence.

Most leaders and citizens in rich countries are hedging their bets that this will only occur after their own lifetimes.

Whereas the long-term impact of Covid19 inequality is primarily economic/geographic, the long-term impact of climate change inequality is intergenerational, with the cost born by younger and future generations.

The craziest piece in this puzzle is that we could fairly easily – and as Covid19 again shows much more cheaply – end these pandemics, for everyone.

But we don’t.

Our current development and global cooperation system. What needs to change?

The current multilateral development system is based on rich countries (primarily G7 members) making charitable donations to support poorer countries.

As the above-mentioned discrepancy between Covid19 donations (USD 16 billion) vs national rescue packages (USD 11 trillion), and continued large funding gaps for poor countries show, global cooperation has failed during the largest pandemic in a century.

This does not bode well for climate change, “the bigger pandemic“.

The current development and global cooperation model must therefore be urgently and radically reformed:

1. Financing beyond ODA: Pooled financing for global public goods (health, climate, etc.) primarily through taxation must be prioritised over post-catastrophe fundraised aid. Development cooperation financing must be delinked from aid dependency from just a handful of donors.

2. Tackle fragmentation: The existing development architecture must be streamlined and strengthened, merging and preferably terminating underperforming institutions. Well-performing institutions must be strengthened but kept lean, and new initiatives should only be founded once others are closed down or terminated. Expertise and capacity should be located and drawn from at the level closest to communities.

3. Place equity at center: The “last” must come “first” to tackle inequalities (both globally and nationally), and tax havens/exemptions must be addressed.

(This blog is based on a talk given at the Hertie Summit).

Parenting during Covid19 – A year into lockdowns

Is this my future as a woman in the year 2021?

Before Covid

I’m a mother of four children, aged between 5 and 15. A year ago, both my husband and I were working in a high-intensity full-time positions. Aside from short parental leaves (which both my husband and I shared fairly equally), I have always worked.

We balanced our careers by rotating every few years, with one covering more family responsibilities while the other made career changes or jumps. We shared childcare and household tasks fairly equally. And our childcare was organised around daycare, school, afternoon clubs, and the support of babysitters in the late afternoons – and occasional emergency or vacation support by grandparents.

And then came Covid

Right as the Covid19 pandemic hit, I had decided to leave my full-time position to search for more balance, meaning and impact in my work.

Initially, as Germany (where we live) went into hard lockdown in Spring 2020, and all four children moved to home and online schooling (and no care for my youngest), it felt like perfect timing. I was not forced to juggle a stressful job with long hours and days (and evenings) full of meetings, but could squeeze in some learning, thinking and writing into (rare) free moments. I decided to found a small platform and consulting company to focus on issues I care about.

After two years where my husband had “covered my back” for my career, I figured that this was now my turn. We felt grateful at the time to have one secure job, and knowing that one parent was fully there for our children.

Half a year into lockdowns, I wrote about the joys, burdens, and also opportunities linked to being a parent during the Covid19 pandemic. Summarising these lessons, I wrote that “this pandemic has been the best – if harshest – lesson I have ever had in my nearly 15 years of being a parent.”

And lockdowns continued

Several months later – a year into lockdowns, and still in the middle of what has been a 4-month long hard lockdown in Germany – the situation has again changed for me.

What started as a temporary state currently feels permanent. I’m fully covering childcare, online schooling, and nearly all household logistics.

My earnings have plummeted from a well-paid job to consulting work to a near zero, as I’m currently not able or willing to commit to projects that I’m not confident I can be available for or deliver on. Having worked for an international organisation, I’m not entitled to most social security benefits.

The impact of Covid19 on women – on me

I suddenly find myself one example of the impact of Covid19 on women, who have fallen through many cracks. I’m still incredibly privileged, living in a safe environment and household, with economic security thanks to our household income and my own savings. Our health system still functions, and I can access services such as physical, mental and sexual health care when and if I need it.

And with more than 15 years of professional work experience, I know that my perspectives are not dire. Life and work will continue. Once lockdowns ease, and daycare and schools reopen, I’ll again get more help with childcare and household tasks (which can be physically draining with a household of six). I’ll find fulfilling tasks to do, where I feel am I contributing to improving someone else’s life beyond our household.

The status quo

Some fabulous academics and researchers, such as Clare Wenham at LSE, have focused on these gender dimensions of the pandemic. Clare recently in a talk rightly highlighted that Covid19 has no caused, but has further exposed and deepened, these deeply entrenched gender inequalities – in society, the workforce, and also in the household.

What many women are currently experiencing – what I am currently experiencing – is the sad status quo.

Self-reflection

My usual strategies to protect my status as a woman – also in a household – and to ensure equity and balance, don’t currently work. I’m stuck in a situation where there’s one full-time secure job and pay, and a near endless lot of childcare and household tasks to manage on the other hand.

I love every moment I have with my children, and I’m grateful that I can spend it with them without having to try to be on calls and work down stressful to-do-lists at the same time (or cover all of that during my sleep time once the kids are in bed). I’m grateful I don’t need to resort to 24/7 Netflix as childcare for the children (even though they’d be delighted, at least for a while!). I’m grateful I’m not burning my own candle at both ends, and my husband doesn’t have to either.

But I’m terrified of getting stuck much longer in this gender dynamic. Thrown back into the 1950s, 30 years before my birth, and into cultural norms I was never raised in (having been brought up in a very equitable Nordic family and culture). I’m terrified that after studying so hard, and working for so long, this is where I’ve landed and where I’ll stay.

I’ve over 15 years always said – and especially my family has agreed – that I am a better parent because I work. In a paid, valued job that is intellectually challenging, and that keeps me looking at the big picture (not some untidy corner of a children’s room). Ideally one that has an impact, and also a healthy work culture, and definitely one that is compatible with my role as a mother of four – and as a positive example for all of my children.

Perhaps this blog is a reminder for all of those women out there, who find that their values and ideals are slipping aways in practice. Where workforce participation and fair pay is a distant dream, and household equality has been thrown out into the trash. You’re one of many, of millions – and sadly billions. We’re in this together, you – and I – are not alone.

And perhaps this blog is a reminder to myself not to lose hope. Things will get better. Things are not awful. But things need to change. We as parents – and especially as women – deserve better.

If you have constructive suggestions or ideas – both personal or policy – to share how to do this, also in the short-term, please do share. A year into hard lockdowns, it’s needed.