The era of PERMANENT EMERGENCY: towards the EXHAUSTION of our societies

Living on the Edge: The Era of Permanent Emergency. Across our societies, the language of urgency has become almost omnipresent—a powerful force that shapes politics, public discourse, and even our personal rhythms. In this age, everything seems urgent: climate change, public health, economic crises, and political conflicts. The word “emergency” is invoked from all sides, whether to justify bold action, bypass debate, or simply to command our attention. But what does it do to us, living under this constant pressure? Are we more mobilized, or simply exhausted? To understand this phenomenon, it's important to trace its roots. The rhetoric of urgency is not new. Ancient Greek and Roman speakers already knew how to stir their audiences with warnings of imminent danger. Yet today, urgency goes beyond persuasion—it has become a tool of government itself. When a leader declares a national emergency, as heard in major political speeches, it's no longer just about creating a feeling; it's about legitimizing exceptional decisions, sometimes at the expense of normal democratic processes or legal protections. This power can be double-edged. On one hand, urgency can be used to push through vital reforms or galvanize societies to face genuine threats—think of the calls to action around the climate crisis. On the other, constant invocation of urgency risks becoming a mere communication strategy, a way to sidestep scrutiny or rush legislation. Sometimes, it produces real change; other times, it leads only to “operations of communication,” leaving citizens numb or skeptical. Too much urgency, ironically, can paralyze rather than prompt action—people become fatigued, even indifferent, as every issue is framed as a crisis. The tension doesn't end there. Politically, urgency can justify the suspension of ordinary rules and rights. The concept of the “state of exception,” theorized in political philosophy, reveals how easily an emergency can legitimize extraordinary powers. Yet, even in democracies, there are checks and balances: parliaments may still oversee or limit emergency measures. Still, the sheer acceleration and repetition of emergency procedures—whether for passing laws or controlling crises—can erode the time needed for debate, reflection, and true democratic choice. Culturally, living in a permanent state of emergency alters the very way we think and feel. The classic virtues of contemplation and careful judgment are sidelined in favor of reactive emotion and rapid decision-making. The risk is a society less able to deliberate, more susceptible to manipulation, and ultimately more vulnerable to both authoritarian drift and collective exhaustion. And so, the era of permanent emergency confronts us with a paradox: urgency is meant to awaken us, yet it can also overwhelm or immobilize. The challenge is to reclaim space for critical thought and genuine political action without losing the capacity to respond decisively when it truly matters. In a world that feels ever more precarious, the greatest risk may be not just inaction—but also the loss of our ability to reflect, debate, and choose freely, amid the relentless drumbeat of crisis.