BIG Questions Institute Update

March 18, 2026, No. 197 (Read Online)
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When Two Things Are True At the Same Time

Plus:

Venezuela Is a Country Spread Around the World: Venezuela’s future is not underground. Its greatest reserve is alive, global, and ready

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Last night was the Persian tradition of “Char-Shanbeh Suri,” where young and old jump over a fire and sing a refrain that conveys leaving behind (burning) weakness and bad luck and welcoming in warmth, health and goodness, to usher in the new year, or Naw Ruz, on the first day of spring. This is an ancient celebration that pre-dates Islam. It unites Christians, Jews, Muslims, Baha’is, Zoroastrians, Kurds, Persians, Afghans, Tajiks, Baluch, and Armenians, and reflects the joy, resistance and resilience that remain strong in modern-day Iran. This year it has become an act of defiance.

But when most of us think of fire in Iran, it’s likely the horrifying blaze of apartment buildings, schools, cultural heritage sites, and innocent lives that have only become the latest victims in a tragic history of the modern Middle East.

The joy of the fire. The catastrophe of the fire. Both things are true at the same time.

(When I think of fire, I also think of ice. Like “ice” in Minnesota winter: the joys of skating on frozen lakes, and the other ICE that has galvanized neighbors in solidarity against cruelty…)

This complexity of so many contradictory, simultaneous truths makes writing, discussing, and teaching about what’s happening all the more difficult. We want clear answers, villains, and stories. We end up with a lot of “yes, but…” or “yes, and …” or “have you considered…?”

As an Iranian-American, born in Tehran, this war obviously hits home for me, and feelings have been difficult to succinctly convey. Yet, along with the many contradictory feelings some points are clearer:

1. There is almost no black-white, good-bad binary in the equation of this war. I am vehemently opposed to war; and at the same time, with over 80% of the Iranian people (a conservative estimate in 2026) desperate for regime change, and genocide carried out by the government against its own people, it’s hard to say in this case that war = bad, and no war/bombs = good, because the lack of external intervention means that the violations against Iran’s own population will continue in full force, with no end in sight.
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   As Afsaneh, a teacher in Tehran, stated: "We're afraid of the strikes, and we're also afraid of the strikes stopping, and of Mojtaba Khamenei taking over. We're afraid the war will end, and we'll be left alone with the regime; we're afraid we'll die under bombs. We're in danger. Our voices have been cut off. It's come to the point that we welcome a foreign attack and, at the same time, fear it; we could die at any moment." (Cited by journalist Roxana Saberi)
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2. To honor (and denounce) the horrors of the loss of life, it’s important to seek a more complete story. The 168 individuals, mostly children, killed by U.S. military strikes at the start of the attack on Iran on a girls’ school is unquestionably a profound tragedy. In an era of media outrage, we also need to be honest about our selective attention. For example, all of the following happened to children, with no international outcry:
   • 1,200+ schoolgirls deliberately poisoned inside Iranian schools (2023).
   • 1,077,000+ child brides officially registered in eight years, including tens of thousands of girls ages 10-14, many still in primary school.
   • 44 children killed during the Woman, Life, Freedom protests.
   • 118 more children killed in state violence since January alone (as well as the many thousands across generations executed over 48 hours in January 2026).
   • 182 girls and women killed each year in so-called honor killings.
   • And much more…
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     In trying to make sense of this horrible moment (which didn’t start on February 28, 2026), find more voices who can tell you what people on the ground or with closer ties to the country are thinking and feeling. Notice when your outrage is stoked by conflict entrepreneurs.
3. The enemy of your enemy does not equal your friend. If your politics and sense of justice condemn Trump and Netanyahu, this doesn’t mean the regime of the Islamic Republic of Iran becomes your friend. They have been far from innocent over these past 47 years of cruel, authoritarian power. Not only was the January 2026 murder of between 7,000 to 40,000 of their own people over just two days only the latest of their crimes, they have fueled the violence and destruction of Syria, Yemen, Lebanon, and others, in addition to the ecological destruction of their lands.
4. Critical thinking skills are needed now more than ever. Despite the population’s need for a “rescue mission,” I am deeply troubled by the simplistic approach to massive military intervention. This isn’t a video game, and the many entanglements across national interests and markets shows how crucial nuanced thinking is. If there ever was an argument for teaching systems thinking, durable or “core” skills, and new literacies across social, religious, economic, political, ecological, and human considerations, this is it. Discomfort is not a good enough reason to avoid the topic.
5. Today is the least complicated and most “normal” day you’ll experience from here on out. It likely only gets more complicated and “weird” every day. So we need to pivot away from “I can’t believe how crazy this all is. When are we going back to normal?” toward building a new reality, rooted in love and community. I often am seized with sadness when I think of the destruction that is raging. As soon as this sets in, I pause to think about what is giving me hope; about brilliant people across the Middle East and beyond who refuse to be ruled by fear and continue to make art, plant trees, serve children, sing and dance. “Hope is a discipline” which we must cling to and take action toward. Finding stories of constructive resilience can show us the way.
6. Finally, I want to offer a deep THANK YOU to so many professional friends who’ve reached out to inquire about my family and my well-being since the start of the war. It is profoundly felt. And if you’re reading from the Middle East, please accept my love and prayers for your strength and solidarity.

Next, I am honored to share here a deeply felt essay by friend and colleague María Pérez Talavera who’s the Director of School Strategy at the American International School in Chennai, India, and originally Venezuelan. The capture of Maduro happened shortly before the unrest and genocide in Tehran in January. I reached out to ask her how she was sense-making and imagined that we would have some things in common. She wrote back with this essay and it moved me deeply. Everywhere she mentions “Venezuela” it could have been “Iran.” Maria is a gifted story-teller and this relatability is one reflection of that.

As you read, I ask you:

• Does anything shift in your conception of what it’s like to be in the Venezuelan or Iranian diaspora, or to remain in each of these countries?
• What would you like to know more about?
• In what ways can being in friendship or community with those whose life experiences and perspectives differ from yours serve as a sense-making and solutions tool?

In gratitude,

Homa

Venezuela Is a Country Spread Around the World: Venezuela’s future is not underground. Its greatest reserve is alive, global, and ready.

By María Pérez Talavera

Lately, discussions about Venezuela have been dominated by the language of geopolitics and international law. These frameworks matter, but they are incomplete. Venezuela is not an abstraction. It is a living country, sustained by people who have endured extraordinary hardship without surrendering their dignity or their hope.

To be Venezuelan today is to carry loss and resilience at the same time. Migration is not a statistic for us; it is a family condition. We celebrate birthdays across time zones, build community wherever we land, and hold a shared memory of what the country has been and a vision of what it can potentially become. Venezuela is a country spread around the world, carried and preserved by the resilience of its people.

If you know a Venezuelan in your workplace, your neighborhood, or your child’s school, you have likely seen this up close. You have probably witnessed an instinct for problem-solving born from navigating uncertainty, an ability to find solutions where none seem obvious, and a generosity that survives scarcity. You have also seen a sense of humor that refuses to disappear, even in the hardest moments. Chances are you have been welcomed at their homes with warmth, offered help without being asked, and perhaps even received a hug that felt a little too familiar for a first meeting. This is how we show up for the world, even when our own is crumbling.

Oil has always been part of our story, often described as our greatest blessing. It has also been our greatest curse. Oil generated enormous wealth, but that wealth was never broadly shared. In the last couple of decades, ordinary Venezuelans did not benefit from it. Instead, oil concentrated power in the hands of those who governed, distorted institutions, and fostered a system where accountability was replaced by control. Over time, oil came to define how Venezuela was perceived, even as it failed to define how Venezuelans actually lived. Carried by its people, Venezuela holds more abundance and wealth than any non-renewable natural resource.W
hat is often overlooked in our story is that Venezuelans did not abandon democracy; democracy was taken from us.
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For years, citizens pursued peaceful and constitutional paths. They voted in massive numbers, marched non-violently, organized, and persisted long after hope should have reasonably faded. Again and again, their will was ignored. Institutions were corrupted, elections manipulated, candidates disqualified, and resistance repressed and tortured. Still, people endured.

This context matters because it reframes the moral debate: Sovereignty is not an end in itself; it exists to serve people. When it is used to justify repression, hunger, forced exile, detention, torture, and the erasure of popular will, it loses its meaning. Venezuela has been in that condition for years, and when this happens, the international community has a legitimate role to play. The Responsibility to Protect is a political commitment of governments and institutions, while the moral commitment of citizens in democratic societies around the world is to resist simplistic narratives, listen to lived experience, and be open to the idea of holding multiple, coexisting truths.

In Venezuela, moments of political turmoil are therefore felt with intensity. Relief and hope coexist with caution and fear. Venezuelans know that removing two individuals from a massive structure does not automatically restore a country. What we seek is a legitimate, inclusive, and stable democratic transition that allows a nation, long dispersed, to begin coming back together. And you, as an international friend, can support our democratic cause while remaining true to your own convictions. This can begin by raising your voices alongside ours in support of a democratic transition that benefits us all.

Venezuelans have not lost their hope nor their democratic compass. We continue to believe in institutions, in voting, and in the slow, demanding work of rebuilding trust. Many of those who were forced to leave are ready to return home when a sense of safety, freedom, justice, and democracy are restored, conditions that have not yet been met. Until then, we will all contribute from near and far. Together, we are prepared to rebuild a country that has been devastated, not only with oil revenues, but with experience, lessons learned, commitment, and a hope that could not be taken from us, and never will be.

As I read what I have just written, I realize I have fallen short of offering political or economic depth. These are not my areas of expertise. What I can speak to, with absolute clarity, is something else: my belief in human dignity and my faith in Venezuelans. And from those principles comes one conviction I hold without doubt: Venezuela’s future is not underground. Its greatest reserve is alive, global, and ready.

[Thank you, Maria! ❤️]
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Interested in talking about school strategy, AI approaches, governance, team leadership development, faculty professional development, or a conference keynote or presentation?

Reach out directly to Homa: homa@bigquestions.institute