THE DEMAND FOR "NOW"

In this essay, Sasha Arkhipov challenges the illusion of instant change, drawing on Māori concepts of time and space to show what we can learn about nurturing transformation through patience, connection, and collective care.

New Zealand Māori Wood Carving

Long before AI began generating much of the text humans now publish online — and before those texts began to sound eerily similar — we humans crafted our own opening line: In the fast-paced world of today, the speed of change is unprecedented. What follows is a generic explanation of why X is complex and why we must be “agile,” “disruptive,” and “resilient” all at once. 

This framing is questionable. While there’s no doubt that the volume of information produced and processed grows yearly — and is now at its highest-ever level — the pace of actual change has been dramatic throughout human history.

Yet today, public opinion most often conflates the speed of information with the speed of change — and for good reason. The more noise you absorb, the more anxious you become. That anxiety fuels urgency, convincing you that change is everywhere and you’re falling behind. Thanks, anxiety — appreciate the help!

There are procedural changes (how we act) and mindset evolutions (how we think). They are linked but not interchangeable. You might switch from a black ink pen to a blue one overnight, but if your society once prioritized progress at any cost, it can’t simply wake up tomorrow as a champion of sustainable solutions. 

Yet in the 24/7 news cycle, both types of change are treated with the same impatience: Commit to a shift, and make it happen by tomorrow. The pressure to deliver rapid change is intense, fueled by the illusion that everything else is accelerating — and you must keep up. In reality, most changes we pursue unfold far later than anticipated. 

Large corporations promise complete transformations within 18 months — in many cases, only for employees to grasp the initiative’s purpose by its supposed conclusion. Well-cited McKinsey research accounts for more than 70% of business transformations failing. My take is that the real rate is much higher, as no one enjoys talking too much about the deaths of transformations only a few people knew about before they were buried. 

Politicians vow to solve existential crises in a single electoral cycle. Startups pitch “solutions for the world” by next quarter. This false urgency comes at a cost: short-termism, cynicism, and burnout.

We are obsessed with the idea that progress is linear, and we must advance at all costs. This is something rooted in the way many societies act and think. 

It has had its upsides, though. The standard of living — fueled by science, industrial progress, and the fight for human rights — brought us to a point of prosperity the world has never seen. 

Yet it comes with a price tag — quite likely, this is the bill future generations will need to pay. The same applies to change and the obsession around its urgency: promise today, deliver… well, that’s for someone else later. 

The lack of agency in announcing change and then delivering it undermines many credible efforts to bring tangible improvements to what we want to transform.

In Māori culture, there is a concept of Ta-Vā — time (Ta) and space (Vā) as inseparable and relational dimensions of reality. Instead of the linear view of time, it offers a cyclical understanding of the world where past, present, and future coexist and influence each other. This might seem difficult to imagine, but please give it a try. 

Ta-Vā opens a line of thinking where everything is interconnected through relationships of continuous care and nurturing, and — most importantly — ongoing negotiation between humans, nature, and things. 

Māori pioneered celestial navigation and built an impressive network of inter-island connections long before such complex naval operations were known in what we now call the West — all by seeing the world this way. There is a great lesson we can take from Māori: 

Change is a negotiation, and it always affects past, present, and future — or at least the way we perceive them. You can’t approach it in a cavalry-like manner.

Mindset change demands patience, and the shifts unfold in waves. If you want people to internalize change rather than merely mimic it, grant them the time and space to make the narrative their own. You can guide them, but you cannot do the work for them. Meaningful mindset change is a mental and emotional process — once seeded, it takes time to grow and bloom.

If your goal is a mindset shift rather than a technical adjustment, avoid promising it will happen overnight. I was born in the Soviet Union, where a common managerial tactic was to under-commit and overdeliver — a simple trick behind “achieving five-year plans in less than two.” I’m not suggesting you replicate this approach verbatim, but consider this: 

People engage more deeply when uplifted by progress than shamed for missing unrealistic targets. Framing change as a relentless race against impossible deadlines breeds absenteeism and erodes the credibility of your cause.

In an era of scarce trust, building it wherever possible is paramount. Hold yourself accountable by setting ambitious yet realistic goals. Update stakeholders frequently with candid stories and data that balance achievements and challenges — where substance outweighs glossy rhetoric. Mindset shifts thrive as collective efforts: Each stakeholder group must understand their role and the actions they can take to drive progress. Offer them a narrative they can adapt and personalize.

Boldness and ambition need not coexist with unrealistic expectations. True courage lies in honesty — even when the truth is unflattering. Change happens when we’re ready. You can nurture it, but you cannot decree a deadline.

The illusion of instant change is a trap. It distracts us from the painstaking work required to align actions with values, rebuild trust, and create systems that endure. As the philosopher Hannah Arendt noted, “The risk of self-government is the risk that people will govern badly. But the risk of not governing oneself is the risk of being governed by someone else.” Right now, we lack proper governance for change as a process, and so we are regulated by unrealistic — often political — rallying cries.

In the end, the demand for “now” is a symptom of a deeper anxiety: fear of obsolescence, fear of irrelevance, fear of being left behind. Yet history shows that the most profound changes — the ones that outlive their creators — are those that respect the rhythms of human nature. 

Can we deliver change? Yes. This requires resilience, constant engagement with people, time and space, and a commitment to impact rather than appearances. Change can be urgent in action but must be patient in mindset. It will take time, and that’s okay.

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This op-ed essay is written by Sasha Arkhipov, a seasoned expert in communications, corporate sustainability, and nonprofit management, with a passion for building vibrant communities and fostering collaborative knowledge sharing. A resident of Belgrade, Serbia, with a background living in London, Moscow, Tashkent, and his native St. Petersburg, Russia, Sasha brings a unique perspective shaped by diverse cultural influences.