Accompanying Transformations: What I Learned About Sustainability When the World Changed

In August 2019, I stood in Bonn, representing Palestine at the United Nations Summer Academy. I sat among leaders, development experts, and municipal representatives from cities across the world — each of us carrying stories of our own communities, our own challenges, our own hopes. I spoke on a panel about “Accompanying Transformations at the Municipal Level.” Back then, the conversation around sustainable development felt full of promise: partnerships, shared learning, capacity-building, peer exchange. There was a sense that if we worked together, step by step, we could build something lasting.

I remember saying that true progress comes when municipalities learn with each other, not from above or below. That partnership is not just funding or agreements — it is trust, mutual respect, and shared vision. And I believed in that deeply.

But what none of us knew then was how much the world was about to change.

Only months later, the world shifted. COVID-19 arrived, and with it came lockdowns, fear, economic pressure, and a complete redirection of global priorities. After that came new wars, regional instability, and cuts to development funding, including USAID support. Suddenly, everyone — governments, NGOs, universities, companies — moved from long-term planning to survival mode. Everything became about responding, adapting, managing the moment.

And here is the truth I learned through this:

People and institutions don’t always change because they believe in sustainability. They change because circumstances force them to.

This lesson accompanied me as my career evolved. I moved from municipal governance into international development, and then into the private sector and higher education. And in each place, I found a different version of the same reality.

In municipalities, sustainability plans could be strong and thoughtful — yet a change of mayor or council could pause or erase years of work overnight. Not because the ideas were wrong, but because priorities shift with leadership.

In international development, projects could be impactful and promising — yet when funding structures changed, entire programs ended, communities lost support, and partnerships dissolved even when the work was not finished.

In the private sector, sustainability was recognized — but it became meaningful only when it aligned with business interest, growth, or public image.

In higher education, I experienced a more strategic, long-term approach. Universities are places where ideas are cultivated and carried across generations, and where collaboration is not only practical — but necessary. Here, I saw how partnerships with international institutions, research networks, and development organizations can create continuity even in uncertain times. What mattered most was not just the presence of resources, but the shared commitment to learning, institutional growth, and preparing students and staff to engage confidently with a changing world. Higher education showed me that sustainability can be nurtured through academic culture, knowledge exchange, and relationships that outlast projects.

So I learned that sustainability is not only a technical framework with SDG icons and strategy documents. It is not something achieved simply because we planned for it. Sustainability is deeply tied to stability, leadership continuity, and shared cultural commitment. And in our region especially, stability is never guaranteed.

But this realization did not disappoint me. It made me clearer.

Because if sustainability is fragile, then our role is not to design perfect plans — it is to design systems that can survive change. To plant ideas that can be carried, not just documented. To build partnerships rooted not only in projects, but in relationships. To create institutional memory that does not vanish when people move on.

And this is where my belief in partnership remains strong — but more mature now.

Partnership is not only knowledge exchange. It is continuity. It is the decision to carry shared work forward even when the world shifts. It is remembering why we started, even when priorities move.

Standing in Bonn, I thought sustainability was something we “achieve.”

Today, I understand it as something we protect. Something we commit to, again and again, especially when it becomes difficult. Something that requires patience, resilience, and long breathing — not only enthusiasm.

The world may continue to change — and we will continue to adapt. But the real work is ensuring that our values, our lessons, and our purpose remain grounded, steady, and shared.

That is what I continue to work for. And that is the journey I choose — still.