by Pádraic Gilligan, Research & Consultancy, SITE and C–founder, SoolNua
We’ve reached the midpoint of the year and one thing is clear: we’re no clearer as to what lies ahead for our world at large, the world of business, our industry, or our sector. Our innate resilience drives us onwards, but it’s one cautious step at a time, as we remain shrouded in fog and uncertainty. But, you know, this doesn’t seem to bother us.
I was pleasantly surprised by IMEX, the most recent occasion when our entire business events industry convened in real time, in a real place. Firstly, it was record numbers for IMEX, both from the exhibitor and the hosted buyer perspective—and volume is always a positive KPI. Secondly, the mood music was far from sombre. There was a palpable sense of positivity around the show floor, framing conversations and defining overall sentiment.
Considering the ever-widening gap between the horrific realities of war, violence, disunity, isolationism, and disrespect on the one hand, and our industry’s apparent insistence on business as usual on the other, I was baffled, bemused and bewildered. I thought of Bruegel the Elder’s striking landscape, The Fall of Icarus, where, on a wide canvas, life continues serenely— a farmer ploughs, a fisherman casts his line, ships sail across a calm bay—while Icarus, wings melted from flying too close to the sun, splashes fatally into the sea, almost unnoticed. We go about our business while personal tragedies and suffering unfold all around us.
Is this head-in-the-sand stuff, a wilful ignorance of global instability? Or is it something more purposeful—resilience, perhaps, or a necessary optimism required to do what we do?
Perhaps it’s both.
There’s a tension at the heart of our industry between realism and aspiration. We build futures: incentive programs, global summits, cultural exchanges. Our work only functions if we believe that flights will fly, borders will open, and safety will prevail. That belief requires a kind of imaginative courage—some might call it naivety; others might call it leadership.
But we can’t afford to be blind. As borders close and the connective tissue of a globalised world frays, we need to raise our collective geopolitical IQ. That means being curious and informed about the world beyond airlift and room blocks. It means understanding election cycles, trade tensions, cultural flashpoints. We cannot allow ourselves the luxury of indifference.
It also means revisiting our risk playbooks. Scenario planning can no longer be just about weather delays or tech glitches. What if a country closes its airspace? If a conflict erupts near your chosen destination? If political shifts alter visa access overnight? These are not remote possibilities—they are Tuesday morning headlines.
And most of all, it means we need to listen. Listen to our partners on the ground. Listen to the communities we serve. Listen to the silences between the headlines. Too often we treat destinations as product—safe or unsafe, open or closed—when in fact they are living, breathing ecosystems of human stories, strengths, vulnerabilities, and hope.
Ultimately, though, we must not lose faith in the power of our work. Incentive travel, business events, and meetings are not merely commercial constructs. At their best, they are acts of bridge-building. When we bring people together across borders, languages, and cultures, we foster understanding. We make the “other” less other. That might not stop the wars, but it can sow the seeds of empathy, respect, and shared humanity.
So no, it’s not about having our heads in the sand. But it is about keeping our heads up—eyes wide open to the world as it is, while still daring to believe in the world as it could be.