Good morning! If you’re new, my name is Jeremy. My wife Jessica and I moved to Iraq 15+ years ago at the height of the war. Today, our humanitarian work across 10+ countries has been covered by The New York Times, Rolling Stone, Al Jazeera, etc.

I help peacemakers like you 10X their impact around the world through a social impact collective called HUMANITE.

I write for those who still have hope.

Jeremy Courtney
HUMANITE

When you find yourself surrounded

Throughout my career, I have regularly found myself in gnarly environments that were hemmed in by risks, and even threats, on every side.

One wrong turn can lead you straight into the Syrian Fourth Division, an Iranian militia, the Russian Wagner group, or an ISIS sniper.

And though I’m rarely the lead driver (thanks to the amazing staff and network of partners we’ve worked with over the years), I often drive in these environments. I may be the “boss”, but I don’t like the idea of getting comfortable at headquarters. For better or worse, my understanding of leadership has usually meant going together, not “sending”, “deploying”, or “commanding” from the back.

I’ve been the principal in the backseat of an armored convoy. And when I am, I can’t help but think about how terrible it would be for the guys in front to be killed, while the rest of us survive, because of a hierarchical seating chart.

These “security seating charts” make sense for presidents and diplomats. But my death would not set off any global chain of events.

And so, physically driving us toward big needs has become one way I’ve sought to embody the love and peace I want to see in the world; a way to try and live my talk of “mutuality”.

But I learned another life principle while driving through treacherous terrain that I could not have learned from the backseat—and certainly not from the safety of my corner office:

When surrounded by risk, you must look for drivable terrain.

The roads we drive as humanitarians are often strategically blown up for miles.

Asphalt dug up to slow down convoys and suicide bombers.

Jersey barriers, steel hedgehogs, or sandbags staggered on either side by militants, forcing drivers to slowly snake their way through.

Craters from airstrikes.

And burned-out vehicles.

The backseat passenger frantically takes stock, fixated on the threat.

“Watch out for that hole!”

“Do you see that tire!?”

“You’re too close to the edge!”

Of course, the driver sees these things, but they are not the focus.

The driver is looking for drivable terrain. Instead of worrying about the spikes of the Czech hedgehog or the smoke from the burning rubber, the driver is looking for space. Separation. Room to move.

Can I hit that gap?

Go offroad?

Throw it in reverse?

Will we bottom out?

Look for ways to pass

Focusing on obstacles is one of the most human things we do in life. There’s no shame in it. But it can be very counter-productive.

The best life pilots and co-pilots I’ve ever known (often known as entrepreneurs, visionaries, and prophets) seem to have a greater propensity for keeping a hazy awareness of the risks around them and a laser focus on the opportunities to pass.

They are not unaware of, or even unconcerned about, the barricades, the craters, and the fires that seem to surround us on any given day. But those things live in their peripheral vision; apparent, but out of focus.

To those who focus on problems, this can seem cavalier.

But if you focus on a huge row of sandbags blocking the road instead of the opportunity between the sandbags to pass, you are going to hit the wall. Because we naturally move toward the things we focus on.

It’s no wonder that those who spend most of their time citing problems instead of building solutions are among the most unhappy, high-anxiety people alive.

Whether you think your road ahead is passable or not, you’re 100% right.

A dearth of drivers

I, for one, would like to see a lot more drivers and a lot less complaining from the backseat. Because I think there are things learned from taking the wheel; from taking responsibility for a crew of people, an enterprise, and a mission that simply cannot be learned vicariously just by riding along.

If we want more peace in the world…

But we find ourselves behaving more like a Backseat Siri, telling others how they should drive instead of taking full responsibility for our own lives, vision, and mission…

Maybe it’s time for a rethink.

Yes, we all need co-pilots—someone willing to sit up front and take fire. No one can navigate their way to The More Beautiful World alone.

But we are not going to get there by committee.

That’s right: I still believe in leaders.

In vision, in values, and in squeezing through impossibly hard spaces in pursuit of a mission that matters.

And I believe in you.

Whether you’ve been riding in the backseat of your life for far too long and you’re ready to take the wheel…

Or if you’ve been driving for a while and it’s getting hard to see through all the traces of incoming fire on your windshield... you’re not alone.

Yes, we are surrounded by challenges.

But if we want to avoid running smack into them and fulfilling everything we fear, we have to shift our focus.

Look for the opportunity.

Squeeze through the space available.

You can even go off-road or throw it in reverse.

But you must keep moving.

There’s a purpose on the other side of all this razor wire and smoke. New people to serve. New friends to love. And new growth to find.

The road may be dangerous…

But there’s always drivable terrain.

Keep going!

Jeremy Courtney
Cofounder
HUMANITE Peace Collective

Follow me on Instagram

Was this forwarded to you?

You can subscribe here.