A Note of Thanks

An acknowledgement of the everyday acts of care and courage that rarely make headlines.

This year I have spent time in places shaped by violence.

I have walked past burned-out parliamentary buildings and destroyed police vehicles. I have stood among riot police by the hundreds. I have interviewed protesters and survivors of political violence. I have witnessed drone attacks and missile strikes. I have met former service personnel living with PTSD and life-altering injuries. I have spoken with emergency responders decorated for bravery earned under unimaginable pressure. I have reported on internally displaced families, frightened, exhausted, mourning loved ones who are missing or dead. I have seen graveyards filling with new names, and memorials rising to honour loss, resilience, and unresolved anger.

It would be easy (perhaps even expected) to end the year with a warning. To write about polarisation, misinformation, mass violence, genocidal behaviours, and the deep trauma war leaves behind. Those realities matter, and they will continue to demand attention.

But this year, at this moment, I want to write about something else.

I want to write about the people who fill me with hope.

Across every conflict zone, every fractured society, every tense and dangerous situation, there are people who care for others without agenda, without recognition, and often without regard for their own safety. They work quietly and persistently in conditions most of us would struggle to imagine. They are not naïve about violence, but they refuse to let it define the limits of human behaviour.

They remind me that while we are capable of extraordinary harm, we are equally capable of tenderness, courage, and unconditional care.

The media would have us believe that the world has lost its moral compass, that trust between neighbours has collapsed, that cruelty is winning. That is not what I have seen. What I have seen (again and again) is an often-invisible network of kindness and meaning operating beneath the noise. Acts of care that never trend. Moments of solidarity that don’t make headlines.

People who simply step forward and help because someone needs help.

I want those people to know they are seen.

I want to acknowledge those working for dignity and justice in the most testing environments, often with little protection and even less recognition. Peace builders, humanitarian workers, emergency responders, civil actors, volunteers, cooks, medics, organisers, listeners. Those who stay when leaving would be easier.

Personally, I want to acknowledge the nurses, cooks, and carers who looked after my daughters at Rachel House. I have not forgotten you, and I never will. Your care mattered more than you can know.

It feels strange to name individuals when there are so many who deserve acknowledgement. And yet people like Olena Hantsyak and her peace engineers; Mila Leonova and her remarkable civil actor networks; Joachim Kleinmann and those working in Nonviolent Peaceforce; and the peace builders I have met this year in Iraq, Syria, Nepal, and elsewhere, these people embody what sustained, principled care looks like in practice. They are not exceptional because they are rare, but because they choose, day after day, to act with integrity.

And beyond those working formally in these spaces, I want to acknowledge everyday people. Those who help in unexpected ways. Those who pause, notice, and ask if they can help. Those small acts that never get recorded but change the emotional temperature of a moment, a street, a life.

I especially want to thank the younger generations, the wee ones skipping to school, the teenagers testing ideas, the young adults insisting on fairness even when it is inconvenient. Thank you for your curiosity, creativity, ambition, and joy. After decades working in complicated, fragile, and violent contexts, it is always young people who give me the greatest sense of possibility. I want you to know this: there are far more good people in the world than bad ones. And even those who cause harm often still carry a capacity for good.

Over the years, I have found myself in dangerous and difficult situations more times than I can count. And there was always someone who stepped forward with kindness. Someone who offered help. Someone who reminded me that I was not alone.

That is what I choose to hold onto as this year ends.

Not denial. Not forgetting. But gratitude, for the people who refuse to give up on care, dignity, and each other.

Thank you for existing. Thank you for what you do. You matter more than you know.

#Gratitude #Peacebuilding #Humanity #EndOfYearReflection