The packed suitcase and the project deadlines

Suitcase is not an unfamiliar object in EU projects. Most obviously, we pack them when traveling to consortium meetings. They are part of the everyday rhythm of project life: another flight, another meeting, another opportunity to collaborate.

But the suitcase that inspired this introductory paragraph was packed for an entirely different reason. “In our family, we have the suitcase ready in case we suddenly need to run away. Inside are essential documents, diapers, milk, and a change of clothes,” explained a Lebanese project professional during a conversation we had about project proposals, activities, and reporting obligations. What struck me even more than the packed suitcase was how, almost in the same breath, she continued talking about project deadlines that still had to be met. Despite the uncertainty, the possibility of renewed attacks, and the preparations for another displacement, the project work still had to be done, reports submitted, commitments fulfilled.

Yet these are not two separate realities. For many project partners in Lebanon, they are part of the same everyday life.

And it is precisely this contrast that inspired us to start this series of blog posts: to explore and share the challenges, dilemmas, and often invisible realities of implementing projects under fire.

When war enters the project

European and internationally funded projects are built around promises about the future. We describe what we intend to achieve, which activities we will implement, what impact we will reach.

But what happens when war becomes part of everyday (project) life?

Of course, project management aims to recognise that exceptional circumstances can occur. In the project application, we develop work plans with risk assessments, mitigation measures, and contingency plans. We even have formal procedures and categories for dealing with the uncertainties, like force majeure, delays, amendments, extensions, risk mitigation, and suspension.

But how much do they tell us about what actually happens in real-life affected contexts? What does it mean to prepare a project proposal for delivering training activities in a region experiencing bombardment? How does someone concentrate on financial figures while constantly checking the news and worrying about the safety of family members? What does professionalism mean when a project manager must simultaneously manage deadlines and support colleagues who have lost their homes? 

And how does one explain these realities to international partners who follow the same conflict through television, websites and news reports, but experience everyday life under very different conditions?

Looking behind the scenes

My earlier ethnographic research (which is described in a recent book “Behind the scenes of EU projects”) already indicated that behind the apparently orderly world of work packages, deliverables, milestones, and key performance indicators (KPIs) lies a much more complicated social reality: informal negotiations, competing interests, professional identities, interpersonal relationships, frustrations, improvisations and, sometimes, contradictions between what projects promise and what they can realistically achieve.

However, the experiences working in the EU-funded STRIPES project introduced another dimension to this research.

What happens to the project and backstage project dynamics when the surrounding circumstances are not merely complicated, but actually dangerous? When uncertainty is not only about whether a deliverable will be completed on time, but whether people will be able to travel safely from home to their work office?

Ethnography of project life under crisis

This led us to initiate a new ethnographic research: Implementing Projects Under Fire. It seeks to understand how EU and internationally funded projects are practically, emotionally, and administratively implemented when war crisis becomes part of everyday project life. The research draws on in-depth interviews with Lebanese professionals involved in project management, complemented by participant observation and dedicated focus group discussions organised during project meetings; and informal exchanges through project-related social media groups, phone calls, and bilateral text messages.

Specifically, the research aims to explore everyday realities: what a typical working day looks like during war, how people respond to unexpected interruptions, how they communicate with international partners, and how they balance professional responsibilities with their personal circumstances.

What comes next?

This introductory blog post marks the beginning of a series exploring the everyday realities of implementing projects under fire. In the coming articles, I will examine what I call crisis habitus: the organisational routines and dispositions developed through repeated exposure to crises. Next, I will explore the ambivalence of project work, which can be both a burden and a source of psychological stability; and cognitive paralysis, when uncertainty and fear make even familiar tasks difficult. I will also examine the often-invisible infrastructures of project implementation – roads, electricity, internet connections, shelters, homes, and family networks – and the particular presence of drones, whose sound and perceived surveillance become part of everyday working life.

With these, I hope to contribute to a more grounded understanding of project implementation, one that recognises that projects are ultimately made possible by people whose lives cannot be reduced to work plans, indicators, and deliverables. And sometimes, those people are working with a suitcase packed, ready to escape at any moment.

This series draws on ongoing ethnographic research supported by the EU Erasmus+ Strengthening T-VET to foster Relevant and inclusive Internship Programmes and Employability Skills (STRIPES, Project 101129181), and Research program P2-0266 of the Slovenian Research and Innovation Agency (ARIS). The research received ethical approval from the IRI UL Research Ethics Committee (KER-IRIUL-001-2023).