The past few weeks have felt particularly challenging to me. Not because of any personal tragedy, but because I am deeply disappointed in this world. There is too much disturbing news: famine in Gaza, raging wildfires across Europe, plastic waste suffocating our oceans and yet no international agreement has been reached in Geneva, the persistence of divisive and disruptive politics, old trees on my street in distress, and so much more. These realities weigh heavily, making daily routines, like sitting in front of my laptop, feel like complete nonsense sometimes.
I was born in the ’80s in East Berlin and raised with the assumption that the world was steadily becoming a better place, mainly because human beings would evolve into more decent creatures. After World War II and the Cold War, many people in Europe and the US wanted to believe that, I guess.
But things are more complex.
In our work as business and human rights advisors, we are trained to look at reality clearly – an often brutal reality. And we encourage our clients to do the same: to analyze risks rigorously and to confront uncomfortable truths head-on.
This is essential work. Because only when you identify risks, examine their root causes, and consider your contribution as a business can you start trying to do something about them.
“Trying” is important in this context. And this can feel very unsatisfying to those of us trained by the machine worldview of Western civilization. I learned this from Jean Boulton, who wrote the book The Dao of Complexity.
She describes how management theory and political discourse are often based on the machine worldview: the idea that the world operates like a predictable, controllable mechanism where outcomes can be fully planned and managed through linear cause-and-effect.
Examples in the social compliance sphere are plentiful: supplier contracts with disengagement clauses, millions of audit reports, lengthy questionnaires and so on.
Boulton argues that this mindset gets us into trouble because it treats the world as predictable and controllable, ignoring the uncertainty, interconnectedness, and emergence inherent in real systems.
She advocates replacing this rigid mindset with a complexity-based approach that embraces adaptability, creativity, and responsiveness to change.
I can very much relate to this concept. Because when it comes to human rights in global supply chains, easy solutions are not available. Despite millions of audits being conducted and questionnaires sent out, working conditions remain miserable for many. There are no blueprints, no one-size-fits-all approaches that guarantee a better life for workers and their communities.
It seems like the answer lies in embracing complexity, not fleeing it. This means rewiring our inner systems and learning new skills.
We need to learn how to sit with discomfort and feel the pain without shutting down. We need to build mechanisms for resilience: practices that help us bounce back, reflect deeply, and act thoughtfully. It means connecting to each other and truly listening to others, including those who challenge us.
Doing business is a way of shaping realities. And doing business well means making genuine human connections, not only with customers or partners but also with suppliers and those whose lives are affected along supply chains.
The UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights remind us that this is not just an act of goodwill. Businesses are expected to use their influence to prevent harm and to support better conditions. This can only happen through collaboration.
Collaboration in practice means building relationships based on openness and trust: sharing knowledge and tools with suppliers so they can identify risks, implement fair purchasing terms, and working on solutions together when things become challenging. These kinds of connections are what give policies life. They are what turn “human rights in supply chains” from a slogan into lived improvements for people involved in creating value.
Genuine human connections, respect, and empathy are not abstract ideals. They are the foundation that allows businesses to navigate complexity with their partners in global supply chains and to co-create solutions for today’s world challenges that audits, or formal mechanisms alone never will.
When things become overwhelming, I tend to find clarity in music.
In the past weeks I have rediscovered a song by the famous Berlin band Ton Steine Scherben from the ’70s which reflects my current state of mind: “Der Traum ist aus. Aber ich werde alles geben, dass er Wirklichkeit wird” – The dream is over. But I will give everything to make it come true.
Lisa for the CORE team
